


shapes and weights to choose

by queerofcups



Series: shapes and weights [1]
Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Porn, Gender Issues, Knotting, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Sex Toys, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-12
Updated: 2018-11-04
Packaged: 2019-03-30 04:27:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 49,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13942587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queerofcups/pseuds/queerofcups
Summary: Getting to interview Phil, PhilLester, feels like the kind of recognition he's been working towards for years and Dan doesn't know how to handle it.Dan's a sex toy blogger, Phil's a nearly-retired porn star. They fall in love, eventually.





	1. Young

**Author's Note:**

> It seems almost impossible that this isn't just a pwp, looking at those tags, but I swear its got more plot than I know what to do with.

_ Younger _

Dan’s in year 7 the first time he finds out that being an omega is a bad thing. 

It’s sort of miraculous that it's taken this long, really. It seems like his classmates have found every other part of him lacking--the too-posh way that he talks, the way he’s always got energy to spare, the way he sometimes has inexplicable mood swings, waking up some days uninterested in anything other than sitting quietly in his little corner of the world. 

He’d presented a whole sixth months ago when Antonio--Tony, one of the biggest bullies in the class had shoved him to the pebbly ground of the outdoor walking path their instructor had told them to walk on while enjoying the reasonably sunny day. 

“Fucking hole-muncher,” Tony says, rolling his eyes. The two shorter boys that made up the core of his posse snicker behind him. “Always in the way, poor cunts.”

Dan knows better than to get up or, god forbid, fight back. He can just see that meeting in the headmistress’s office. Tony would mutter something about Dan  _ making eyes _ at him and how Dan had been  _ tempting _ him. 

It's the sort of thing he’d read on the forums he’s been hanging around since the first flushes of puberty. 

Before today he’d thought they’d been exaggerating. 

He stays on the ground, trying to keep himself from twitching, or moving in a way that could be read as invitation or,  _ God forbid _ , getting up. Tony and his cronies scoff and jog off, too big trackies flapping a little in the wind.

Dan lays there a second more, thinking that this is probably a life changing moment, the one where he decides that he’s going to be quiet, tuck himself into the small corner of the other already-presented omegas who cluster together and hardly talk to anyone else.

Dan lets his head clunk against the dusty path and stares into the blue-grey sky and says out loud, “Fuck that.”

“What was that, sweetheart?” Tony asks, sneering down at him. His lackeys chuckle and trade slurs and other shitty neanderthal grunts about omegas behind him.

There’s something lemon-sour and bright on the wind. He doesn’t know it now but he’s only a few months from being intimately familiar with the acrid scent of pubescent arousal. Right now, it just makes him want to gag.

He pushes himself up on his hands, then onto his feet. He’s eye to eye with Tony and the boys behind him go “ohhhh” like even this much challenge is good theatre for them. Dan’s shins ache every other day, so he knows he’s got at least one more growth spurt in him, even if he’s already taller than most of the other omegas that have presented.

The lemon scent gets stronger, more acidic.

“Fuck you,” Dan says, nearly as surprised as Tony at the words coming out of his mouth. 

“What’d you say?” Tony asks, stepping forward, into Dan’s space, their chests bumping. “The fuck did you say,  _ hole _ ?”

This is not the last time in Dan’s life he’ll be reduced down to those parts of his anatomy, but it is the first. 

He doesn’t remember drawing his fist back. Doesn’t remember throwing the first punch. Mostly, he remembers the feeling of Tony crumpled at his feet at the soaring feeling in his chest, right before the other boys jump onto him. 

Later, he’ll sit in someone’s office and listen to Tony tell their alpha head teacher how Dan attacked him, how he tried to  _ tempt _ Tony and his friends and he’ll be so angry it tastes like bile at the back of his teeth. 

But after that, when he goes home to his parents, his mother will inspect his busted knuckles, give him a long, searching look then send him up to his room without punishment.   
  


 

Dan keeps getting infractions years 7 through 11. Half of them are of his own doing, the other half are because of Alpha fuckers that don’t know how to keep their hands to themselves. 

A healthy number of them are because sometimes he flirts back in the face of the lewd shit they say to him, just to see what’ll happen and what usually happens is Alphas turn bright red and then get angry at the thought of an omega  _ intentionally _ using his charm on them. 

He thinks it's fucked, how so many of them are taught that an omega is only sexy if they’re saying no. He doesn’t know how many times he’s batted his eyes at an alpha who turned away, only to shove him up against a wall and grind their knee into his thigh until he whimpered and only  _ then _ did he smell the citrusy scent of their interest.   


He tries to talk to his omega friends, and one harrowing time, the alpha school counselor, about it. They all give him the same mealy-mouth excuses about natural dominance and alpha’s wanting to show their worth.

It’s bullshit and it makes Dan’s skin crawl. He wants to be wanted because he’s  _ wanted _ , not because some alpha decides they’re going to take Dan, regardless of his own desires. He says as much to his friends and they wrinkle their noses and wonder out loud why the hell he has to make everything difficult. 

He doesn’t shrink back, doesn’t tell them that things in his head are difficult half the time anyway and he knows he’s too tall and gangly to be a properly beautiful omega and that he doesn’t see why his future alpha should have an easier go of it than he’s currently having. Instead he scoffs and grins and says he doesn’t know why the alphas get to have all the fun.

 

At night, he touches himself and tries not to be terrified. There are so many parts of him and his health class, peopled with the same all-omega group he’s been with since he left primary school, is frustratingly obstinate when it comes to how things  _ work _ .

They tell him he’ll have a heat eventually, tells him how social queues from betas and alphas differ, tell him about sexually transmitted infections. They show horrid pictures of disembodied cocks with knots that have split into bulbous, weeping sores and talk about the genital mutilation of omegas in other cultures. They show pictures of bright-eyed omegas with warmly wrapped babies in their arms, sitting between Alpha-Alpha and Alpha-Beta couples that smile proudly down at them. 

But they don’t tell Dan, or any of his classmates, just how those omegas got knocked up anyway. They tell him about his heats in dry, clinical terms--all estrus, ovum, maturation and menarche. None of it has prepared him for the first time he’s been thinking his crush, an Alpha girl two years his senior who’s rumoured to be preparing to play footie professionally and once thanked him for handing her a pen with a smile, and the sudden ache and slow-coming slick between his legs. 

Dan masturbates with a furtive fury, often and as quietly as possible, and tries to keep his thoughts on the Alpha girl and then tries not to feel too terrible when he thoughts drift to Tony. 

He has enough sense not to tell his friends about that. They’d call him a freak, or a slut, or something worse. He knew that without asking.  
  


 

It's almost not surprising that the first time he puts someone in a thrall, it's Tony. Dan can’t be sure but he thinks he might have made Tony come in his pants. It's hilarious, because it's the middle of the day and they’re passing classes. Dan’s been spending too much time on the internet, trying to fight his way through the thick fog that all the adults in his life maintain around sex. 

He knows he’ll have a heat eventually. It’s year 12, and he’s heard of people getting it this soon. 

He knows that really important in some cultures and here at home in Britain it's seen more as a mildly embarrassing inconvenience.

The internet tells him that’s not the only time he might want sex. The internet tells him that omegas signal their interest differently than alphas. The internet tells him there are omegas that don’t give a fuck what alphas want, are more interested in other omegas or betas or people who never present at all.

The forums tell him that if he opens his eyes a little wider, tilts his hips a certain way and exudes  _ want _ people can’t help themselves from wanting back. 

It isn’t hard to call that want up for Tony. He’s been pressed between cold school walls and Tony’s warm body enough to get some wires crossed and fear doesn’t always smell that different from excitement.

Tony’s got him shoved up just like that now, his reliable old goons clustered behind him like it's going to keep a teacher from noticing the little scene. He’s muttering some rubbish about Dan needing to stay out of his way, as if he hadn’t been the one to grab Dan and he’s digging his fingers into Dan’s upper arm hard enough to bruise and Dan just looks at him (looks  _ down _ at him, not much, but no Alpha likes an omega that’s too tall) and bites his bottom lip. 

It feels awkward, and ridiculous to be making eyes at the bastard that’s been abusing him on and off for half his life now and he nearly abandons the whole plan when Tony stops short, staring at him. 

Instead, Dan angles his hips so that they brush against Tony’s just so and Tony’s grip loosens on his arm, just as his pupils dilate. He leans forward, just a touch too slow and Dan slips away, half-running down the hall. When he glances back, Tony and his idiots are standing there, all looking dazedly after him, but not following. 

There is fear on the edges of the feeling blooming in his chest, the whisper of wondering what would have happened if Tony’s goons had stood a little closer together, what if he hadn’t been able to slide away. But mostly he feels pride and incredulous, ridiculous power.

He decides then that maybe this is the big secret everyone is keeping, that omegas aren’t kept in the dark because they’re fragile but because they’re dangerous and  _ powerful.  _

__

Later, Dan will skip the end of the year 12 assembly about going to uni or getting a job or what the fuck ever to hide in a bathroom and spread his legs and let Tony shove a clumsy hand into Dan’s pants, past his cock and up into him. He’ll his at the stretch and watch Tony’s face and feel nothing in particular because Tony is, unsurprisingly, bad at this. After a few minutes he pretends to come while Tony grunts something encouraging and then Tony pulls his fingers out of Dan and says some bullshit about always knowing he’d be a good little hole and Dan walks out of the bathroom without jerking Tony off like he’d planned to. He mostly feels annoyed with himself for thinking a few years of sexual frustration would override the sheer  _ dickishness _ that undergirds Tony’s whole personality.

__

Tony tells everyone and they whisper and stare at Dan but it doesn’t mean shit because they’re there are a few more days and then there’s a break and then Dan’s at uni where he only occasionally sees his former schoolmates and he doesn’t feel motivated to acknowledge them. He's a slut, maybe, even if he's not done more than get a shitty fingerbang from a now-former school bully but he's finding its not the worse thing he could be. 

__


	2. Younger

Uni is a revelation. Uni is a room to himself with a door that locks and no one to yell at him when his music is too loud. Uni is staying up too late playing video games and reading shit on the internet. Uni is setting up his camera and recording dumb little videos to put on his youtube channel. 

Uni is also, frankly, a lot of masturbating. 

His heat still hasn’t come but all the friends he’s made on the omega forum swear it's probably soon. He wakes up, cock hard and thighs slick. He falls asleep with a finger or two still pressed inside of himself, shoulder bent awkwardly. 

He doesn’t think too much about how much his room probably smells like sex and lube and slick, he just doesn’t invite any of his housemates in. 

He doesn’t really talk to his housemates much at all, which makes it that much more confusing when one of them invites him to a party one weekend and he agrees to go. 

They abandon him almost immediately after they walk through the door, which he probably should have expected. So he finds the table everyone is crowded around that’s littered with plenty of shitty, cheap booze and makes himself a drink. Drink in hand he finds the nearest wall to lean against and watch people. He won’t admit outloud that he’s terrified, but he also managed to avoid eye contact with everyone that looks his way. 

He finds, after he’s had a couple gulps of his drink and time to calm down, that parties are really fascinating to watch. The dynamics are there, but they aren’t as pronounced. He can’t always be sure that someone is a beta or an omega just from looking at them or even watching them talk to the friends. There’s no mistaking the alphas though. They fill up the room, talking to whoever they want, smiling down at them and touching without permission. 

Dan’s so distracted he doesn’t even notice the alpha approaching him until he’s up in Dan’s space, smiling and smelling like burning wood and petroleum. 

“Hi,” he says, stepping closer. He seems like he wants to loom over Dan the way the other alphas are looming but Dan’s eye to eye with him at best, taller if they’re being honest. 

“Hi…?” Dan says. He doesn’t mean to be weird, but the bulk of his interactions with alphas his age have been unpleasant at best. 

“You smell…” The alpha starts and Dan rolls his eyes and peels himself off the wall, walking away. He doesn’t give a shit what he smells like to an alpha and he certainly doesn’t want to hear how he smells before the guy even asks his name. 

“Hey!” The alpha says and tries to stand upright. Dan realizes the guys a little tipsy from the way he wavers a little and then Dan realizes that he himself is probably tipsier. He curses the deceptively strong cheap liquor and focuses on continuing to walk away in a straight line. 

He gets about four steps, ignoring the alpha who’s yelling sexist shit behind him, when someone grabs his arm. 

“Hey, sweetie!” the person says. She’s a tiny omega, her head barely making it up to Dan’s shoulder and she smells like a burst of mint and something sweet and almost artificial. 

“I was looking for you!” she says and tugs him down into a hug, pressing him closer to her neck, where the minty-sweet scent is so strong it feels sharp in his nose. 

“Play along,” she murmurs, her mouth brushing against his shirt-covered shoulder. His body chooses that moment to remember that he still hasn’t had his heat yet. He’s sure the whole house can smell the turn in his scent, the way the blood rushes to his cock and hole so fast it hurts. She glances at him and quirks an eyebrow, but still laces their fingers together and tugs him away, not looking back at the alpha. 

The alpha is, to no one’s surprise, bitching about “fucking hole munchers, just need a knot to get them right,”. It’s a shame bullies aren’t more creative with their violence. 

Dan follows her through the crowd of unfamiliar faces deeper into the house. When he realizes they’re moving toward the stairs, to where he assumes the bedrooms are, a thrill goes through him. This is what happens in college, right? People meet, they have sex, it doesn’t have to be a big deal. He shouldn’t panic just because he doesn’t know her name and his sureness that she’s an omega is fading with every decisive step. 

Most of the porn he watches features people with cocks, but he figures he can probably figure out what to do with an alpha who doesn’t have one, if that’s what’s about to happen. 

A few people look over at them and smirk, watching as they climb the stairs. Dan doesn’t say anything as she leads him to a door, through the door, to a small bedroom. 

“Hi,” she says just as he’s saying “I’m sorry, I can’t have sex with someone I don’t...er…”

She’s watching him, eyes twinkling, lips obviously pressed together to hold in a laugh. 

“I’m straight,” she says, finally dropping his hand. “Alphas only. And you’re shaking like a leaf. Clarissa, hi.”

She holds her hand out to shake and he takes it, ignoring the tremble of his fingers. 

“Then why are we…?” he looks around. He hadn’t asked much about where they were going when his housemate had invited him but now he has questions. The bed is a nest of blankets and pillows, it's lit with fairy lights and a strip of LED lights that cycle through deep, warm reds and purples. The window is cracked slightly so Dan mostly smells cool night air but he gets snatches of a bunch of different scents, like this room has been filled with a lot of people somewhat recently.

“We’re not having sex, I’m sorry. I just didn’t think you wanted to be harassed by that jerk.”

Dan nods and runs a hand through his hair. “I didn’t. Thanks.”

She shrugs a shoulder, smiling at him. “Would you...I’m straight, but I have friends who aren’t. If you’re into...clubs?”

Dan stares at her. He thought college sex clubs were only a thing that happened in the shitty kind of porn that made him feel bad for being turned on. 

“Here,” she says, pulling out her phone. “What’s your name? I’ll friend you and invite you to the next meeting.”

Dan tells her his name, mind racing to remember what his privacy settings were and how he was going to explain publicly being invited to a sex club over Facebook to his parents when his phone dings with an invitation. 

Clarissa’s friended him and invited him to an event all at once. 

“Oh,” he says, thumbing over the event page. It's a game night, hosted by something called The DO. Do sex clubs do game nights?

“The DO?” he asks. 

She rolls her eyes. “They call themselves the Deviant Omegas. There’s other assignations that go but they started off as a club just for omegas. Sometimes, historically, omegas that weren’t considered submissive enough got institutionalized and marked with--”

Dan nods and hits accept on the invitation. “Marked as a Deviant Omega, yeah.”

He’d been on more than one Wikipedia spiral, looking at all the ways he could have been fucked over or gangpressed into submission if he’d been born just a few decades earlier. 

“Right,” Clarissa says. “I’m going to go back to the party, but this is my room if you want to hang out? No promises you won’t get interrupted.”

Dan shakes his head. “I’m going to head home but...I’ll see you soon?”

When she smiles at him, the feeling of accomplishment slides down Dan’s spine like warm water and he’s certain both of them can smell the way his scent turns and blooms warm and deep. It's unexpected, but not surprising. He’s probably, definitely, at least a little bit gay. 

Clarissa doesn’t say anything, just winks and slips out the door. 

That night, when Dan finally gets back to his blessed, familiar bed, he holds his cock in one hand and presses two fingers against and between slick mess between his legs and thinks about the way Clarissa smiled at him. He comes easy and shuddering, the thick muscles of his hole contracting around his fingers. It feels so good, too good and he feels silly for never thinking of another omega like this before. 

He relaxes into his pile of blankets, wiping his hand on his thigh and tries to think about what it would mean to know this about himself earlier. Would he bother with his weird hatefuck fantasies about Tony? Would he have been more interested in getting to know the other omegas in his class? Why didn’t anyone say anything about this in his godforsaken omega classes?

He closes his eyes and imagines himself with Clarissa, imagines her touching his cock, slipping a finger into his hole. It sends sparks to his already slick center, a reminder that he could go again whenever. 

He tries the same with Tony, thinking back to the time in the bathroom, thinking about what it would have been like if Tony had been  _ good _ . And he feels...the same thing. Like spreading his legs and pushing his fingers back into himself.

He doesn’t know what to call himself then. He decides to find out what the forum has to say and tries to go to sleep. 

Of course, the heat is still under his skin and his traitorous brain suggests that the only thing better than Tony or Clarissa is Tony  _ and _ Clarissa, so he ends up wrapping a hand around his cock and thinking about Tony pushing his cock into Dan’s mouth while Clarissa strokes his hair and  whispers in his ear about how good he’s doing, how well he takes it. 

He comes twice more and still doesn’t drift off until he starts fantasizing about what an omega-omega date would even look like. Nice, he thinks. It’d probably be nice. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dann, you're saying. Is this gonna be another fic where I have to read a bunch of them having sex with other people?  
> Reader, I'm saying...I mean yes, but I promise to make it fun to read?
> 
> Come talk to me about literally anything other than you not wanting to read non-dnp pairings at queerofcups.tumblr.com


	3. Younger II

“So…” Dan says, looking at the camera resting on top of a stack of books. “I successfully went to my first college party.”

His youtube videos lately have been these weird diary entries, five minutes of his random thoughts about leaving college, moving out, hating most of his law classes. Some people complain that he doesn’t do as many sketches and tell him he’s boring, but more people talk to him now and ask him more than when his next video is going to be and that feels nice.

He doesn’t talk a lot about being an omega. He’s got a few hundred followers and most of the ones that actually bothered to fill out their profiles are omegas or betas. He follows some other omegas, but it feels like all they do is talk about is being an omega. Dan appreciates them, and he’s certain he’s learned more from them about dating and fashion and practical knowledge about heats than in any of his years of omega health classes. But he doesn’t want to be them. He doesn’t want his entire life to be defined by his assignation the way theirs seem to be. 

Which is why he’s dithering now. It’s not like there aren’t gay omegas on Youtube, there are plenty of gay omegas and alphas and even betas. He’s vaguely aware that there’s a channel hosted by five alphas that’s been gaining a lot of popularity lately.

But he’s still hesitant. Scared. It's been two days now since he met Clarissa and he thinks about her a lot and thinks about omegas and he’s realizing that he’s definitely attracted to her and she maybe even wasn’t the first. But it feels like there’s a big difference between being attracted to an omega and being  _ gay _ . Dan’s got enough problems being an omega, and a shitty one at that. 

He sighs and turns the camera off. So maybe he isn’t gay. Maybe it was just a quick phase. Maybe he isn’t weird at all and his school was just really traditional. 

He pulls on some trainers and leaves his room, still mulling it over. He doesn’t know what to expect from this game night, but maybe being around more omegas that call themselves deviant will clarify things for him. 

He makes his way over to the coffee shop that’s a few blocks away from campus greens, trying and failing not to get too into his head. 

 

The first two members of the DO that Dan meets other than Clarissa are two...betas, probably? They’re sitting right at the front of the cafe with clipboards that Dan’s learned in his short time at uni mean he’s meant to sign in. 

In Dan’s experience, alphas and omegas have strong scents that change from person to person while betas tend to smell flat. He’s met some betas that wear the scent of an alpha or omega if they’re on the prowl for a non-beta and he’s heard that alphas and omegas on heatblockers smell sterile.

Even with all that knowledge, he doesn’t know what to do with these two. They’re both brunette, both have short hair, one has buzzed sides and the other has a blunt bowl cut that’s probably fashionable but Dan just thinks is ugly. Neither of them smell like anything in particular and they’re both wearing black. 

“Hi there,” Buzzed Sides says, extending a hand into a wave. They’re wearing a denim jacket at on one collar there’s a constellation of metal buttons. One says she/her/hers and another that says “kiss my assignation goodbye”. 

“Hi,” Dan says, waving back awkwardly. “I’m uh...is this the...DO?”

“Sure is,” Bowl Cut says, giving him a lascivious once-over. “Welcome, newbie.”

Buzzed Sides rolls her eyes, “Ignore Owen. They’re an alpha. They can’t help being an asshole.”

Bowl Cut--Owen, barks a laugh and says, “Stereotyping, Maisie!”

Dan stares at Owen while they banter back and forth with Maisie. Owen’s nails are painted and their shirt is thin enough that Dan can see their delicate frame beneath the long sleeves. Maisie doesn’t seem cowed by Owen’s loud outburst and she teases him like it's no big deal, like it doesn’t matter that Owen is an omega and Maisie is...nothing apparently?”

“You can go in,” Maisie says, finally done arguing with Owen. “Just put your name down here.”

She taps the clipboard and when Dan leans over to sign in, Owen purrs, “What  _ is _ your name, newbie? I like to keep track of all the cute omegas that pass through our doors.”

“Creepy,” Maisie tells him firmly, then says to Dan, “You don’t have to answer that.”

“Um,” Dan says, trying not to blush quite so hard. He’s never had an alpha flirt with him in a way that’s so direct but also curiously sans the threat of violence. It's thrilling and another tally in the probably straight column.

Owen shakes his head and says, “Sorry. Mais is right, I don’t want to make you feel weird. You are cute, though.”

“Oh, I wasn’t, um, thanks,” Dan mumbles and then just walks off, ducking his head. He intentionally doesn’t listen out to hear if they’re talking about him. 

The coffee shop is full of people. Dan isn’t sure how he’s supposed to tell who’s a member of the DO and who is there just trying to recover from a Monday full of classes. He catches sights of Clarissa in the middle of a group and when she waves him over he makes a beeline for her.

“You came!” she says, slipping around some people to get closer to him. 

“I did,” Dan says and only makes a soft, surprised noise when she keeps coming, wrapping him up in a hug. She’s average height, which means she barely tops his chest. He hugs her back and tries hard not to inhale. She’s straight and he’s straight, probably, and it’d be weird for two straight omegas to go around sniffing each other. He lets go of her. 

“We’re just about to start,” she says. “It's sex trivia night, by the way. I don’t know if the event mentioned.”

Of course it's sex trivia night.

“Here,” she says, tugging him, “You can sit at my table. We’re the Cloac and Daggers.”

“ _ Jesus _ ,” Dan laughs out, shocked, he looked around a little to see if anyone else heard Clarissa. 

“What’s wrong, Dan?” she asks, a challenging little smile on her lips. “You’re not afraid of a little...cloaca-play, are you?”

“Cloaca?” one of Clarissa’s friends says, turning to look at them.

“Cloaca?” another one says, a little bit louder, eyes twinkling. “Did someone say cloaca?”

To Dan’s horror and, strangely, amusement, it’s like dominos falling, one member of the DO after the other saying the word “cloaca” louder and louder until they’re basically yelling it. 

The poor people who were just there for coffee look appropriately scandalized, but Dan finds himself laughing along with the rest of the DO at their faces. 

“You’ll do alright,” Clarissa says, nudging him. “C’mon, sit with us.”

Dan finds himself and a table with three other people and they have, in fact, written on a garishly pink piece of paper, “Cloac and Dagger”. The “o” is an omega symbol. It's raunchy and funny and fun and Dan hopes the rest of the night is just the same. 

Clarissa introduces him to all the people sitting at the table: Elisabeth, Harper, Sophie and Oliver. They all tell him what pronouns they go by and Elisabeth tells him she’s an alpha. Harper, Sophie and Oliver don’t say they’re assignations. They’re all very pretty, but Dan’s eye keeps catching on the gold hoop in the conch of Oliver’s ear and how it matches the tiny cuffs on some of his dreadlocks. 

“You brought us another tiny white boy,” Sophie says to Clarissa, the corners of her eyes turning up into a smile. “I specifically remember putting out a request for you to find me a nice African girl to fall in love with and get married to so maybe my parents won’t notice that she’s an omega too, and you bring us a white boy.”

Clarissa shrugs, “I’m not your matchmaker. And we both know you’d just stare at her and not say anything.”

Dan watches them bicker for a minute then looks over at the other two, just to see if this is normal behavior. Harper is alternating between checking her phone and watching them argue. Oliver is looking at Dan.

“Oh,” Dan says, “Um. Hi.”

Oliver smiles at him and says, in the softest, sweetest voice Dan’s ever heard, “Hi, Dan.”

Dan doesn’t know what Oliver’s assignation is any more than he really knows if he’s gay or straight or something else. Suddenly, it doesn’t matter. All he knows is his cheeks feel warm when Oliver smiles at him and he just wants to smile back.

  
  


They become his friends, somehow. Dan realizes, immediately, that he doesn’t know half of the shit that they know about sex, or about omega history or significant beta and omega and even alpha activists. They tell him what books to read, what blog posts to check out. Sophie, Harper and Oliver are all in the small Beta/Omega studies department at the university. Clarissa is studying Literature but has sworn to only read works by betas and omegas once she’s done with her general classes.

Dan learns that Clarissa is the token straight. The rest of them turn up with a revolving door of betas, omegas and alphas and they meet up over coffee or pizza or studying to regale each other with stories of the people they’ve hooked up with. 

When they try and weasle stories out of Dan he can’t even try and lie about it. Then they coo over him and his still absent heat and his embarrassing old crush on his school bully. 

They’re touchier than any other people he’s ever met, ruffling his carefully straightened hair, fixing his clothes. The first time Harper absently scents him, rubbing her cheek against his, he freezes and they tease him about being a prude. Dan had no idea he was a prude until he started going to DO meetings and hanging out with them. He tries to push past it, doesn’t flinch with Clarissa pulls him into hugs, doesn’t duck away when Sophie pecks him on the mouth. He works on not blushing when Oliver talks theory about omegas having sex with each other and he doesn’t even look away when they get drunk together and Sophie and Harper inevitably start making out. He still doesn’t quite know what to call himself--doesn’t know what to do with the way he finds himself staring at the strong breadth of Oliver’s back just as often as he thinks about licking the taste of Sophie off of Harper’s fingers--but with them, he doesn’t worry so much.

Even in health class at college, Dan had been told that omegas are more affectionate, freer with touch. It's true in some ways and not in others. The little group he’s been accepted into is fiercely insular. People come and go but they usually don’t stick around and no one in the group mourns their absence too deeply.

But Dan’s come over to Clarissa’s house, the house they met in, and chatted with others, voice slightly raised over the sound of someone having sex just on the otherside of a wall. Harper invites them all the weigh in on which of her nudes deserves to be put on retainer and Dan’s intimately aware of when Oliver’s rut is, how often it comes and how long it lasts. 

So when Dan wakes up one Friday morning with his covers on the floor and his thighs squeezing the pillow pressed between his legs, he knows who to call. 

“Hey,” Clarissa says, leaning over him. She touches his forehead and he pushes up against her hand. She’s cool, her scent like wintergreen in his nostrils. The heat is under his skin, makes him want to touch and be touched. He’s forgotten all his prudishness and hesitation, wants someone’s touch on him and around him and in him.

“How long have you been going?” Sophie asks, from somewhere further away from the bed. 

Dan struggles to sit up, ends up tilting his head back and pressing his hips back onto the bed, searching for pressure. He lost his shirt a while ago and his pants are in a tangle around his knees.

“Too long to go to a heat center,” he says, biting his bottom lip. “Too late to go buy toys.”

Oliver is so quiet he may as well not be there. Except Dan can smell him, soft and sweet and all Alpha, scent sharp with arousal and warmer than the other omegas in the room. Dan wants him, wants all of them right now.

“We can do that,” Harper says, and Dan realizes he’s lost a few moments, and that he must have said that last part aloud. 

Harper is the first one to crawl into bed with him, skating cool palms across the soft curve of his belly and murmuring and trilling sweetly when he reaches out for her. Her ash-blonde curls obscure his vision when he presses his face into her neck and makes soft, cut off noises when one of them spreads his legs to settle between them. 

“Dan,” Harper says, quietly. “I need you to focus for me. Do you want all of us to work you through your heat?”

He’s hot and turned on and he wants all of them, but it feels like the base-level desire to please and possess all of them, just turned up to eleven and set on fire. He nods, manages a muttered  _ yes, all of you, all of it _ , and then someone is pulling him down onto his back and spreading his legs wider and working a clever tongue into his hole.

His eyes fly open and the first orgasm of his first heat, he spends clutching Harper’s hand and the head of someone--Oliver--who eats him out with abandon, his clever tongue and the vibrations of his pleased hum working together.

“Damn,” Harper says, sounding impressed and amused.

“More,” Dan gasps and Oliver ducks his head dutifully.

Omegas, usually, react to their heat in one of two ways. Some omegas go into a sort of fog, where all they care about is being filled and pampered and petted for a day or two. They become agreeable and easily manipulated. Omega health class encourages people who react to heats in that way to be stringent in their heat arrangements-- to try and stick to the same heat partner, to be sure they know where the heat facilities are at their university’s health center, to have a heat protocol that involves essentially locking themselves away from the people that would take advantage of them. 

The other reaction is for an omega to become energized and hyperaware--eyes wide open, mind hyperfocused on how to find the nearest person to fuck them until they’re too exhausted to come again. Their heat protocol is basically to lock themselves away from people they might manipulate and challenge someone to fuck them until they’re satisfied.

Dan always assumed he’d be the first. All the omegas he knows talk about their heat being this fog of arousal, the need to be held, the sweetness of being allowed to just ride the waves of heat. He’s lazy, can hardly be arsed to take a walk around the block after he’s been playing video games all day. He can hardly talk to strangers, there’s no reason to think he’d every be able to manipulate anyone.

But after Oliver’s rung a few orgasms out of him, his eyes slide open, up to look at Sophie and Harper who hover above him and the refrain in his head is figuring out how to get all of them inside of him one way or the other. 

“We should have done this at my house,” Clarissa is saying softly, “There’d be more room.”

Sophie makes a nose of agreement, her fingers deep in Dan’s hair, massaging his scalp.

“Put them in my mouth,” Dan says. 

“What?” Sophie says. 

“I don’t want a knot,” Dan says clearly, too heatstruck to think about how that might make Oliver feel. “Not right now, I’m not ready. But I want--I want.”

Oliver must have heard because he’s redoubled his efforts, grabbing Dan’s thighs and licking long strokes of his tongue against Dan’s hole. He’s got Dan’s slick all over the bottom of his face and when Dan gasps and tries to buck up into another thunderclap of an orgasm, Oliver just holds on to him.

“I want all of you,” Dan finally says, when he’s got words back. His stomach is a mess of slick come, even though he doesn't remember coming that way. He grunts when Harper reaches down to smear some across her palm and wrap her hand around his cock. Under normal circumstances it would be painfully overstimulating, but right now it's exactly what he needs. 

“Yes,” Dan moans. “Yes, all of you.”  
  


His heat breaks that night, just short of eight hours before it started. 

“Thank  _ god _ ,” Sophie says, flopping onto the bed, long limbs thrown across Dan’s. 

They’re all naked, all sticky and sweaty and honestly rank. There are snacks, a cup of ice for Dan to munch on, discarded dental dams. There aren’t any condoms and if Dan wasn’t so tired he might feel bad about Oliver not getting to knot. 

The room smells awful and Dan feels wrung out, his throat raw, his body sore. He’s had all of them in him, their mouths on him, their fingers in him. He’s only been out of the room to use the bathroom and now that the heat is gone, the overstimulation of having four other people in his room is just edging into claustrophobic. 

“Um,” Dan says. “Thank you?”

“Congrats,” Oliver says, patting Dan’s thigh with a fingers that have gone pruney. “You’re not a virgin anymore. Or a prude. Can you have a gangbang your first heat and still be a prude?”

Sophie and Harper cackle. Clarissa is silent, asleep on the floor. Dan supposes that eight hours of making an exception to your heterosexuality is probably worth a nap. 

“It's what friends are for,” Sophie tells him, smacking a kiss to the side of his forehead. “Now get up, we’ve gotta make sure you’re fed and hydrated before we leave or it’s going to drive Ollie crazy.”

“True,” Oliver says, shrugging. 

Dan smiles at him and lets them baby him, drinking down the bottles of water they give him and munching through two granolas bars. Finally satisfied, Clarissa and Harper leave first, mumbling about getting dinner. While Sophie is in the bathroom, Oliver sits next to Dan, who’s still mostly naked, just wrapped in a sheet. 

Dan flushes a little, which is annoying, considering where Oliver’s tongue and fingers have been since this morning. 

“I know you said you weren’t ready,” Oliver says, pushing his hair out of his face. “But if you change your mind, or want to try with someone you trust...for your next heat, I could…”

Dan’s silent, staring at Oliver. He’s never met an alpha like Oliver, soft-spoken and quick to smile and unerringly careful not to push too far. 

“Okay,” Dan says, not bothering to fight the dumb grin on his face. “Okay, yeah.”

Oliver smiles back at him. They smile at each other for too long, long enough for Sophie to walk in and ask them what’s so funny.

His youtube followers tell him he should snatch up Oliver as a long-term heat partner, even though they only know the scraps Dan’s given them. Sophie, Harper and Clarissa don’t say anything, outside of making approving noises at Oliver being the first alpha to knot him. Oliver doesn’t bring it up again, but when Dan asks him about it a month later, his smile blooms open and his scent is so happy that Dan feels bad for making him wait so long. 

“I just don’t know,” Dan tells his camera, biting at a callous on the side of his thumb. “I don’t...I might be gay? I know you’re sick of hearing that,  _ I’m _ sick of hearing that but…”

Oliver is beautiful and wears gold rings on every finger that clatter on Dan’s desk when he takes them off. Oliver is beautiful and so is his cock and the first time he presses into Dan, Dan’s certain he’s going to split open but he’s positive when he does flowers and candies and puppies will fall out of him, he just feels so full but so  _ good _ . When Oliver knots him, Dan thinks that maybe his teachers weren’t so wrong about his body being made for this sort of thing. Oliver whispers sweetness into his ear about how he’d liked Dan the moment he saw him, how he’d been happy to just be friends but this is just amazing, too.

Oliver is beautiful and Dan wasn’t ever prepared for his crush to be requited. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The real world "cloaca" is cunt or whatever word would elicit a similar reaction in the UK. I go back and forth about info-dumping about this world so lmk if you have questions about heat/rut stuff or omega friendships or anything like that!


	4. Nearly Now

“Have you made any friends?” Dan’s mother asks, cutting her salad into smaller pieces. 

They’re in the one nice-ish restaurant that’s within walking distance of his house, a quiet, dim place that’s more expensive than Dan could have afforded to go to on his own. Most of the other people around are students like him or adults that he assumes are their parents. He wonders if any of them feel the same nervous tug in their stomachs. 

“Yeah,” Dan says, and looks down at his plate, moving his mashed potatoes around and hoping they don’t ask for more. “I met some nice people.”

“Have you met any  _ nice _ people,” his dad asks. 

His mother says his fathers name, a little reproachful, but she watches him, too.

“Um,” Day says and considers Oliver, the way he’d fallen asleep in Dan’s bed last night and how pleasantly he’d left just a few hours before Dan’s parents showed up. 

“Yes,” he says slowly, “A few. Oliver. Harper and Sophia. And Clarissa.”

“Any alphas?” Dan’s father asks, eyes brightening.

“Oliver is,” Dan says, “But Clarissa actually saved me from this absolute jackass. I went to this party and--”

“Oliver,” his dad says, sitting back, pleased. “A good, strong name. Is he treating you right? Does he know you haven’t had your heat yet? You know you can’t rush those type of things, Dan.”

“Um,” Dan says, staring at his fork. “I had it actually. Oliver was there. He was great. They, um, they all were.”

Silence stretches between them, the ambient noise of the restaurant filling in the gap. Both his parents look at him, his mother expressionless, his father with his mouth slightly agape. 

“As in,” his father tries, “I’m sorry, they’re all alphas? Or, oh, I understand. The other three brought you food and things for your nest, yes?”

“Dad,” Dan groans. “No one calls it a nest anymore. Or a bower. It's just my room. And no. I, um, I like omegas, too.”

“Well,” Dan’s dad says.

Dan waits for him to finish the sentence. He doesn’t. 

They finish dinner in near silence, just barely managing a conversation about his classes. He tells them he’s thinking about dropping law, figuring if he’s in for a penny, he’s in for a pound. His father’s mouth twitches downward at that too, but his mother just nods and asks him questions about what he’s thinking about taking instead. 

“I’m not sure,” he says, shrugging a shoulder. 

She nods, preparing to say something when his father says, “That’s fine. It's fine. College is for exploring, isn’t it? Figuring out what you like and don’t like. Experimentation is fine, Daniel. As long as you know when to buckle down and get serious.”

Dan could pretend his father is actually talking about school, if the lead ball in the bottom of his stomach wasn’t so heavy. 

Later, when they’re done with dinner and his father has gone to get the car, his mother turns to him and holds her arms open. 

He rolls his eyes but goes, tucking her head below his chin. She’s short, for an Alpha, and looks shockingly like him, all soft eyes and curly hair.

“Your father was raised very traditionally,” she said, her voice buzzing through his clavicle. “He’s always only wanted the best for you, and he thinks omegas do best with alphas.”

Dan sighs. “And what do you think?”

She shrugs and lets go of him, taking a step back to look into his face and cup his cheek in her hand. “I think that college is time for finding yourself, sure, but the rest of your life is for being all the things you discover yourself to be.”

Dan looks back at her, neck unbending and proud, and she smiles at him, pressing her corner right where his dimple would be. 

 

“It’s not like I expected them to react  _ well _ ,” Dan says to the camera, running his fingers through his hair. Oliver and Harper are sitting on the other side of the camera and if feels strange to be talking as if they’re not there, but he wants to relay the story of dinner with his parents as few times as possible. Also, his followers have been really interested in hearing the voices of the people he’d been calling his favorite people in the world. 

“I just didn’t expect him to completely ignore it,” Dan says, looking past the camera to look at Harper. “He completely invalidated them. My feelings, my omega friends, hell,  _ himself _ . It’s like no one matters to him if they don’t have a knot. It’s like no  _ one _ matters to him.”

“And your mom?” Harper asks.

Dan shrugs a shoulder. That feels too personal. Instead he shakes his head and looks at the camera, and says, “She doesn’t...it doesn’t matter what she thinks, if she won’t say it in front of him.”

He ends the video like that, without even his usual sign out and sets it to upload without editing. It feels too close, too raw for him to watch himself talk about dinner with his parents. 

“We’re sorry,” Oliver says, both him and Harper coming from behind the camera to wrap him up in a hug. 

“It's ok,” Dan says, even as he lets them squish him between them. It’s not, really, but he thinks it will be.

He makes himself forget about the video. It feels embarrassing, to have spilled his guts like that, more diary entry than entertainment, but the thought of taking it down feels worse. 

It becomes the first video of his youtube career. 

He knows something is different when he starts getting messages. Before, the only messages he got were the handful of people that liked his video or other youtubers asking him to check out their videos. 

Suddenly, he was getting people trying to  _ talk _ to him, wanting to offer advice or even asking him for advice. 

The views climb and keep climbing, first through the hundreds, then the thousands. When things settle down, he’s sitting on 5,000 views. It's not a lot for big youtubers, but for him it's huge. 

“Um, hi,” he says to the camera, trying his hardest to pretend he’s not utterly confused at his sudden jump in followers. “My name is...Dan. And I have no idea where all of you have come from.”

He tells them a little more about himself, a little about the DO, a little about his history with bullying and his relationship with his parents. He’s not certain what the formula is to get viewers to come back, so he gives them a little of everything he has. 

It works.

It keeps working. 

His followers keep climbing, people start prompting him with videos they’d like to see--he’s become the type of channel he never wanted to be, an omega who only talks about being an omega, but people seem to love the way he pushes back against what people think omegas should act like, or feel like. The videos where he talks about maybe only being into omegas surge above all the others, so he stops bringing Oliver on, makes a few videos featuring Harper, Sophie and Clarissa. 

Some alphas leave shitty comments about him making other kinds of videos with him, but he ignores them. 

He has another heat and makes a video about the benefits of having heats with multiple partners, though he never says with who. 

His first year at uni ends and the summer weeks he spends at home are equally ebullient and claustrophobic. He can’t tell his parents what he’s doing, but he’s got unlimited time to write and prepare and film videos---he’s got skits, discussions, rants. He uploads twice a week and the only time he misses a day is his third heat. 

It’s the first one he spends alone, masturbating until his whole body is tender and he can tell porn stars apart just from their name--Ravina Davine is his favorite, a curvy omega dominatrix who has a penchant for fucking alphas with a dildo with a fake knot at the base. Mark Oxin is his favorite, a guy who could only be a few years older than Dan himself, who’s somehow managed to squirrel away from categorization. He fucks and gets fucked but Dan never sees a knot or a cloaca and the confusion is delightful in the eagle-eyed focus of his heat. 

When he comes downstairs the third day of his heat, the first day he’s able to slide pants on without needing to grind himself against the rough fabric, his father reminds him that they would have let Oliver stay over, if Dan had wanted.

Dan goes back to his room and works on a video about how knots aren’t all they’re cracked up to be until he can’t stand to be sitting still anymore. 

When he’s editing it later he has to cut out the last minute of it, acutely aware of how flushed he is and the way he keeps trailing his hand across his neck. 

It's still an obscenely popular video, and the first one he gets offered an advertisement deal for. 

He very carefully doesn’t think about why this is the one that made Youtube decide he might be profitable. He also never films another video while he’s in heat. 

He posts photos of himself though, mussed and flushed, just because he can, and because he likes the comments he gets from other omegas. He answers questions on his twitter and formspring. He doesn’t know why they care so much about him, doesn’t see what they see in his bony chest and shaggy too-long hair. But they keep coming.

They start asking him if he’s going to have meetups. They ask if he’s going to America for vidcon. He’s not even sure what vidcon is, but it feels like a big deal anyway.

He goes back to uni, moves into a flat he splits with Harper and Sophie and spends the night with Oliver. Oliver tells him that he’s seen all of Dan’s pictures, that he had wanted to text and call him so many times, just to hear all the sounds Dan’s followers don’t get to hear. Dan whines and scrabbles his fingers against Oliver’s back. When they’re tied together Dan gasps and and grinds himself onto Oliver’s knot until Dan comes again. 

He doesn’t mention Oliver in any of his videos. He does find other omegas to fuck, slipping his fingers and tongue into their holes, spreading them and sliding into them. 

The picture he posts from one drunken night, someone’s thumb pressed against his bottom lip, exposing the shiny pink inside, gets more likes and comments than anything else he posts that week. 

They’re not all nice, some of them make his skin crawl and remind him of the feeling he had when alphas pressed him against lockers back at college. But they don’t bother him, it's worth it for all the people who seem delighted with him, all the omegas who care about him. 

He feels untouchable.


	5. Nearly Now II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> content warnings: brief mention of past rape, implicit threats of corrective rape

Hole isn’t the worst thing an omega can be called, but it's one of the most common slurs. It doesn’t even really offend Dan to be called that anymore, after so many comments on his videos or his pictures. It slides off his skin and barely pierces anymore. Some of the members of the DO use it freely, wearing clothes with the word splashed across their chests and affectionately calling their friends hole, or worse.

Dan’s even had a few memorable one night stands with omegas that have demanded that he be nothing more than his hole, to be used, to be taken. Those are nights he thinks about when he can’t be arsed to pull, pressing into to the flushed humiliation like a fresh bruise and coming hard into the dirtiness of it. 

So he doesn’t blink when he’s checking an inbox to see if anyone has sent him good Omega Support Group questions and there’s an email with the subject line “look at this, fucking hole”. It's not even the most creative hatemail he’s gotten, judging from the title. 

“Ugh,” he says, shifting so he can turn his computer to Oliver. Oliver had come over last night, before Dan had gotten in from a date. They aren’t dating any more than Dan’s dating Sophie or Harper, but it made his stomach squirm to walk into his bedroom and find Oliver there. He hasn’t decided if it's a good squirm or not, but he’d let Oliver stay, regardless.

“This is the kind of shit they come up with,” he says, yawning. “Do they teach alphas to be as unoriginal as possible in your health classes. At least the ones about the mating bed make me laugh.”

“Pretty much. We don’t really get beyond how to best display our dominance over everything in the world.” Oliver says, reaching over to click something. Dan assumes he’s opening the email.

“Gross,” Dan laughs, letting his head fall back onto his pillow. “Do they just tell you to piss on everything?”

Oliver doesn’t respond. 

Dan lifts his head up to look at him. “Ol?”

“What’s your address?” Oliver asks him, staring at the computer.

“Uh, here?” Dan says, then tells him the address.

“Fuck,” Oliver says, sitting up, pushing his hair out of his face. “Dan, they sent you your address.”

Dan turns the computer back to him, sitting up. It's there, his address staring back at him. Below, there’s some bullshit about him talking shit about alphas and how they’ve seen all his pictures. 

_ You’re just begging for an alpha _ , the email says.  _ We could find you and give you the knots you need. _

Dan’s throat feels tight. He feels like he’s just been pushed down into the grass, Tony and his minions standing over him. 

“Dan?” Oliver asks. “Dan, what are you going to do?”

Oliver feels a million miles away. If they can find his flat, they can find his parents house. They can find out Harper, Sophie and Clarissa’s houses. They would know when he’s in class and when he’s at home. 

“I’m not going to do anything,” Dan says. 

He can’t tell the police, no one understands what Youtube is. His parents don’t understand either and if he tells them about the videos he has to tell them about the pictures. It’s hard to say he _ doesn’t _ want an alpha, looking at those pictures. 

“Dan?” Oliver says, “Dan, breathe.”

Dan looks Oliver. His head hurts and he feels short of breath, but he’s fine. He’ll make this fine. 

“I’m fine,” he tells Oliver. “It’s fine, just stupid alphas being alphas.”

Oliver flinches and Dan stares at him. 

“Are you serious, right now?” Dan asks. “These assholes are threatening me and you’re  _ identifying with them _ ?”

“Dan,” Oliver says, sitting up. “That’s not what that was. I’m sorry, you know we agreed that you guys wouldn’t constantly shit on alphas, I can’t help but feel a little--”

“They’re threatening to rape me,” Dan says, looking at the computer, his own address staring back him. “Do you understand that?”

“Of course!” Oliver says, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to--”

“Get out,” Dan says. His vision is going blurry with tears and Oliver smells familiar, almost comforting, except he also smells like an alpha and that turns Dan’s stomach. Is this what Oliver thinks of him? Has he watched all these videos of Dan, pleased with the knowledge that all of Dan’s feelings about omega liberation and equality don’t mean shit because Dan can’t stay off his knot?

“Dan, please, I’m sorry,” Oliver says, “I didn’t mean it that way.”

“I know,” Dan says, taking a deep breath, and swiping a hand across his eyes. “I know you didn’t mean it that way. And I know you can’t help it. You’re an alpha. You can’t help it.”

Oliver frowns, “Dan, that’s not fair at all.”

Dan’s laugh is sharp and mean. “You can’t tell me shit about  _ fair _ , Oliver. Get out. I’ll call you later.”

Oliver looks like he wants to argue but he just gets up and gathers his stuff, looking at Dan over his shoulder one more time before he walks out of the door. 

Alone, Dan stares at the message. It’s really fine. He can handle this just like he’s handled all the other shitty comments people have left him over the last year. 

He’ll post the video he was planning to post, one about him officially changing his study focus and then in between that and his next update he’ll make some funny little video about how he doesn’t give a shit. 

He logs out of the inbox and closes his computer, tucking himself back into bed. 

He doesn’t post the video about his classes. It’s fine, his followers don’t need know everything about him. But turns out he needs to read and write a lot more now that he’s doing so many reviews of the literature, so he closes his Formspring account. A few more weeks pass and the ad revenue checks start coming in smaller and smaller, so he picks up a job. The job means he doesn't have time to maintain his Photobooth or Instagram. 

Eventually, he starts talking to Oliver again and he has more time to hang out with him and Sophie and Harper. Clarissa gets harder to catch, all her time being taken up by studying, since she’s a year ahead of them.

Before he knows it, three months have passed and he hasn’t uploaded a video. But it's fine. Youtubers are allowed to take breaks. He takes a creative writing class and it feels good, to have a different outlet. They write stories and poems and it feels a lot like creating sketches.

The year ends and that summer he travels with his parents. Oliver comes to visit when they happen to be in France the same time as him and they have frantic, quiet sex in the hotel room next to Dan’s parents and Oliver whispers  _ I love yous _ into Dan’s flushed skin. Dan pretends not to hear and doesn’t invite Oliver to the flat when he has his two heats back to back that summer. Harper and Sophie help him through and don’t mention Oliver once.

Neither of his parents ask about them. His father asks where Oliver’s gotten off to, sometimes. Dan doesn’t answer. Instead, he signs up for another creative writing class, this a one creative nonfiction course simply called “Omega Stories”. He spends what’s left of his summer holiday in his flat, pulling different omegas and the occasional beta. He hasn’t slept with an alpha other than Oliver since the email. He tries not think to hard about the ways these things might be connected.    
  


The first day of his Omega Stories class, the professor, Dr. Arundel, sits on the desk, her unsuppressed scent filling the room. She smells like something antiseptic and herbaceous all at once and Dan dislikes her almost as much as he wants to roll onto his back and present her his belly. She’s eagle eyed and makes each of them meet her gaze before they tell her their names. She’s American, a black woman, and Dan wonders if omegas are just different there.

Dan isn’t sure what he’s expecting from the class, but he isn’t expecting the first writing prompt, simply:  _ what are you afraid of _ . 

They’re given thirty minutes to write and then they stop and watch her. 

She sits on the desk and says, “Who wants to read their work to the class?”

No one raises their hand. The hair on Dan’s arms stand up. When he’d started writing he’d included the easy things--not finding a job, disappointing his parents. But the longer they’d sat in silence, the more things he thought of. He’s written a little about everything. About Tony, about Oliver. He’s mentioned the email and the constant, grinding unsureness of what he was  _ supposed _ to act like.

She shifts on the desk, crossing her legs and leaning forward, holding up the notebook she’s written in. 

“I’m afraid,” she says, “of going home, most nights. I moved across the ocean to get away from my rapist, but there are no guarantees, not when you’re an omega. If I’m being honest, I’m afraid of this whole, wide world.”

Dan’s breath is caught in his throat, her words ringing in his ears.  _ I’m afraid of this whole wide world _ . 

“There are ten of you,” she says, tucking her dark, curly hair behind her ear. She’s wearing deep, violet lipstick that turns her mouth berry dark. “And I hope, over the course of this class, you’ll get comfortable with each other, and with me. Because we’re going to the dark, challenging places. You don’t have to, of course, I won’t ever force anyone to do anything they don’t want. But I’m offering to join you, if that’s the journey you decide to take. I’ve found, over my years of teaching, that the stories of omegas can’t help but be challenging, and it's easier to bring that sort of thing to the top, rather than go diving for it.”

Dan looks down at his own words, the block letters of “what are you afraid of”, the messy scrawl of his fears. 

What is he afraid of? What has he come to fear?

He heads back to his flat after that, cooks dinner for himself, Sophie and Harper. He eats and wraps theirs up to be eaten later. It's quiet in the flat, different from the days when the remaining members of their year of the DO fill their lounge. Clarissa is gone abroad for the year, Oliver is in the wind, as far as Dan’s concerned.

Once, when he felt alone, he could send out a message and have hundreds of people to talk to. Now, he sits on his couch, staring out the window, in silence. 

“What are you afraid of?” he asks himself, quietly, as if the answers are beyond his fingertips. 

He grabs his laptop and logs into the email he’d connected his Youtube account to. There are 900 unread messages. Some don’t have subject lines at all. A lot of them are asking when he’s coming back. It’s been six months of him disappearing, piece by piece, with no explanation, and this is all he has to show for it. 

He goes to Youtube and logs in. The front page looks different, but he can still find the place to upload a video. He knows where his old camera is. He could make a new video. Does he need a better shirt? Should he put on a hoodie that hides his neck? Should he style his hair, or would that make him look too enticing? Would they be watching, would they use the address of his flat?

He looks out the window and realizes that he’s panting, fighting for air, panic crawling up his throat. 

Mumbling to himself, he closes the Youtube page and returns to the emails. There’s nothing wrong with small steps. 

He skips over the emails asking where he’s gone, if he’s ok, would he come back and clicks one with OMEGA SUPPORT GROUP in the title. It’s only a few lines of text, no hello or goodbye, just

 

_ are there any heat toys for omegas that don’t fucking suck? I actually don’t want a fucking melon shoved into my cloac all the time, thanks???” _   
  


Dan laughs at that, some of the panic receding. He doesn’t have any experience with heat toys, he’s never wanted for sexual partners and never felt the need to look beyond basic porn sites beyond that. He marks the email with a star anyway, just because it made him laugh, and digs into the rest of the emails, trying to find anything worthwhile, with questions he can actually answer. 

His next creative writing class, the prompt is  _ what makes you feel good _ ? People are more willing to share this time, reading out lists of places, people, foods and smells. 

Arundel listens to them all, nodding and when no one else volunteers, she says, “That was lovely, but I have to ask...none of you have sex?”

The class laughs awkwardly and she smiles at them, but when they settle down, she says, “I’m serious.”

Dan, looking around, raises his hand slowly. 

Arundel looks at him, pleased. “Thank you...Daniel, right? Dan?”

“Dan,” Dan confirms. 

“Dan,” Arundel says, moving around the room to look at him. “Sex. Makes you feel good, yes?”

Dan nods. He’s a long way from the precious, blushing virgin Clarissa first saved. If Arundel is expecting him to shyly look away, she’s got the wrong omega.

She grins at him, “Good, good. I’m glad! Not every omega can say that. A lot of us just think of it as a necessary evil. Does it make you feel safe?”

Dan starts to nod, then pauses. Arundel watches him. 

“Sometimes,” he says slowly, acutely aware that the others are watching him, but that he doesn’t  _ have _ to say any of this. “With other omegas.”

“And with yourself?” she asks, watching him, waiting. He looks away. 

“Thank you, Dan,” she says quietly, before launching into her lecture. “What would it look like if we talked about omega’s pleasure? Not just sexual, though we will be talking more about that, you British are more repressed than Americans, which I would have  _ never _ believed a few years ago. But what about  _ pleasure _ ? What makes omegas feel good? Not just safe, or taken care of, or whatever reductive drivel gets thrown at us--but what makes omegas feel  _ powerful _ ?”

Dan hasn’t considered power in a long time. He’d thought that views made him feel powerful. He’d thought that pushing back against the image of the docile, virginal omega had made him powerful. He’s not ready to give up those notions, but now he wonders if there’s more. 

His freewrite for that day is full of questions, and difficulty admitting that he doesn’t know what makes him feel powerful, maybe doesn’t know what powerful is at all. 

When he gets Arundel’s comments back, they’re positive, encouraging him to dig deeper, to figure out what he knows and what he needs to find out. 

Sitting in his room now, the sounds of Sophie and Harper moving around in the flat keeping his head from getting too quiet, or too noisy, he creates an account with a blog site and pastes the words of his freewrite up. 

They’re simple, black on white, no frills, no flash. But it feels like the most powerful thing he’s done in six months, admitting that he doesn’t know anything at all. 

He thinks about Arundel’s question. Does he feel safe when he’s fucking himself? Does he feel safe with himself at all?

He pulls up the omega support group email and stares at it, thinks of all the things he doesn’t know, all the people he wants to help. 

“What are you afraid of?” he murmurs to himself. “What makes you powerful?”

He hits reply.

_Hi there,_ he types. _Sorry for the delay!_ _I’m actually not sure, I don’t have a ton of toys! But I’ve got some friends who might know, so give me a few weeks and I’ll get back to you! ; )_  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you're wondering, the tone of the conversations in Dan's class are fully based on some of the ones I've had in my own women's & gender studies classes. its get real in there, y'all.   
> come say hi at queerofcups.tumblr.com


	6. Now I

_ Working 9 to 5, what a way to make a living _

Dan reaches out to grab his phone, groaning when he knocks it from his night stand onto the floor. 

_ Barely getting by, it's all takin’ and no giving _

Eyes still closed, Dan swings his torso over the side of the bed, pawing at his bedroom floor until he touches his buzzing, ringing phone. 

_ It's enough to drive you crazy if you let it! _

“What d’you want?” he slurs, rubbing his eyes. 

“My mother sent me your article,” Cat says, voice too bright for whatever time of the morning it was. Dan’s asked her multiple times to be a little less...American in the morning.

“What article?” Dan asks, rolling onto his back and into the leg of...someone. He sits up and squints down. The room smells like sex and heat, there’s a person in his bed and he feels like he’s been run over by a truck, but pleasantly. Whoever it is, they’re pleasantly squishy and their leg hair is thick enough to be soft. Dan kind of wants to cuddle a bit with them and go back to sleep. 

“You don’t know?” Cat asks, bringing him back to this horrifically awake reality. “20 Youtubers You Once Loved and What They’re Doing Now.”

“Gross,” Dan says, “Send me the link. I’ll call you back when I’m feeling like a human again.”

“Sent!” Cat says, “Make me some breakfast.”

“Why are you even  _ awake _ ,” Dan asks, glancing at his phone’s clock. It’s half-past eleven, half past six in the morning for her. 

“I’ve got this thing,” she says vaguely. “It’s funny you should ask actually. So you know how I’ve been thinking about getting another dog? I met this guy--”

Later, when he’s more awake, he’ll feel bad about hanging up on her. Right now, the silence is worth whatever angry emojis she’s about to text him. 

“That your girl?” the pleasant lump in his bed asks.

Dan looks over at the guy, the breadth of his shoulders, the soft spray of freckles on his skin. He’s a beta, if Dan remembers correctly, but his heats haven’t cared in a long time. He can do just as much without a knot as with one. 

“No,” Dan says, “Just a friend. Did you want breakfast? Before you go?” 

He genuinely had meant breakfast, but he goes easy when the beta scoffs and rolls him onto his stomach to eat him out. It’s good, he’s got a clever tongue that slicks between Dan’s already slick folds and works its way into his hole. Dan sighs and nudges his hips back, trying to get closer to that blunt, warm feeling.

An hour later when he’s freshly showered and alone in his apartment again, beta blown and then gone, he opens the link Cat sent him. 

It’s is indeed a Buzzfeed listicle, and there he is, amid Youtubers who were, frankly, far more popular with careers that lasted much longer. 

But there he is. Blessedly, they chose one of the less horrific photos from his longgone Photobooth days, one where he’s wearing a tiny hat for some reason but is also wearing all his clothes. He wrinkles his nose at the caption though, “Howell, formerly known as  _ danisnotonfire _ , now runs an adult website.”

He runs am omega focused sex toy review blog, thanks. They could have at least copy/pasted the site description from the fucking FAQ. 

The rest of his entry on the list is weirdly breathless, trying to balance between Buzzfeed’s desire to be liberal and support sex workers and their need to make his transformation from “one of Youtube’s favorite sassy omegas” into “a vibrator peddler with a particular social justice bent” something particularly salacious. 

“Howell,” Dan murmurs, “disappeared from Youtube without any warning after a meteoric rise to Youtube fame with video series such as Omega Fails (a biting take on the expectations society places on omegas) and his coming out video, one of the first videos on Youtube that really delved into the omega experience. He resurfaced in an unexpected way, running a blog,  _ Delta _ , that’s been spotlit in magazines like Cosmo and Teen Vogue.”

Dan shimmies a little, pleasure prickling goosebumps up and down his arms. If he were further away from his heat, this kind of praise would embarrass him but right now it feels like a firm hand digging pleasantly into his scalp. Both those magazine mentions were brief sentences amidst some faux feminist yammering about pleasing your alpha by pleasing yourself but he’s not successful enough to be picky yet. 

He throws the phone onto his mattress and rolls out of bed, stretching and heading toward his office. He’d picked up some packages yesterday and he’s excited to get started on today’s reviews. 

“Mmmm,” Dan sighs, his hips settling back on the bed. The  Njoy wand  is still settled heavy in him, the weight of it pressing against his insides. The vibrator buzzes noisily in his hand, abandoned in favor of something that’s  _ actually  _ going to get him off. 

He grabs his phone, tapping in a few final notes on the Lux Oh Bang before switching apps. This is his second go ‘round with the thing and the suspicions from his first round are pretty accurate--it's too buzzy, unwieldy and weak-- not worth a third try. He might try just on his dick, just for a comprehensive review, but the makers aren’t going to be too pleased with his review.

He clenches around the bulb of the wand, trying to decide if he wants to go for another round while he checks his email. 

“Huh,” Dan says, scrolling past familiar emails from shops offering to send him samples and other bloggers to the name he doesn’t know. Over the last few months, he’s been getting more and more emails from unknown people, responding to all the writing samples he’s sent out, all the articles he’s pitched. 

“Hi, Dan,” he mutters, reading the email. “We loved your piece about omegas  decided to go in a different direction with the segment we were considering you for blah blah but...fuck.”   
Dan sucks in a quick breath. The apartment is silent around him as he reads and rereads the next sentence.

_ We’re doing a segment about porn stars changing the porn industry and I thought you’d be great to do an interview with Phil Lester. He goes by Mark Oxin when he’s working--.” _

_ “Holy shit!” _ Dan says, wriggling around. He pulls the Njoy wand out and rolls over to mash his face into the pillow. 

It's silly, he’s a professional, Mark--Phil isn’t even the first porn star he’s ever met. But after the email, after he and Oliver drifted apart and he’d hooked up with fewer and fewer alphas, Mark Oxin’s videos had felt like the last thing left of his brief taste of being an omega that could just post a sexy picture online without stabs of anxiety in his lungs. Those videos remind him of being young and successful and intrigued with the ways that Mark blurred lines between assignations. 

He hasn’t thought about that time in his life in years, has thought of it as washed away in tides of words, friendship and progression on and beyond a stupid email and a career that probably would have petered out in a few years anyway. 

He takes a minute to gather himself, then rolls over to grab the phone and respond to the email. 

He’s going to meet and interview Mark Oxin. Phil fucking Lester. 

After he sends the email, he calls Cat.  _ This _ kind of thing was worth calling someone at ass o’clock in the morning for. 


	7. Now II

He spends another hour on the phone with Cat, trying to explain why he’s so excited about the feature. It’s a big deal anyway, a full length feature story in a feminist magazine that has both on  _ and _ offline readership, practically a unicorn these days. And Cat gets that. But he’s never told her the exact details of his prompt exit from Youtube or the time he’d spent after that trying to reinvent himself. So she’s thrilled for him, and teases him about how weird it’ll be to talk to someone he’s watched have sex before, but she doesn’t  _ get _ it. 

When he gets off the phone he itches to message someone who will, but the last person he talked to from school was Harper and their last messages are months old. He sighs and finally rolls out of bed, wincing a little at the all the lube and slick he’d forgotten about spills out of him and onto his thighs. He squelches back to the bathroom for a second shower of the day, trying to think of who would be a better person to talk to.    
  


“So let me get this straight,” Anthony says, pausing to chew his toast. Dan’s not entirely sure how he ended up with a cabal of Americans as his friend group, but at least this one doesn’t call him before he’s awake. 

“Nothing you do is straight,” Dan says, just to see Anthony’s jaw clench and twitch. It’s a little mean, maybe, to tease someone in the middle of a sexuality crisis, except Anthony’s has been ongoing for about eight million years now. Dan’s got a lot of sympathy for omegas who struggled more than he did with his sexuality, but he’s talked Anthony down from throwing himself at too many alphas built like brick shithouses just to prove what a great, totally straight omega he is. And, he’s had a drunk, handsy Anthony in his bed too many times, his soft, cooing trill convincing Dan that maybe this time, he won’t freak out afterwards. Dan personally thinks he deserves to be a little mean, after how many times he’s opened his eyes to morning-afters where Anthony is curiously absent.

“So you’re interviewing a assignation-bending pornstar that you’ve loved since your precious youth,” Anthony continues, almost successfully ignoring Dan’s comment, “Because he’s retiring and about to go on a  _ speaking tour _ about being an assignation-bending pornstar.”

“Yes,” Dan says, taking a sip of water. Brunch with Anthony usually features way more alcohol but he’s fairly sure either he or Anthony has slept with someone on staff here because they’d ordered a second round of cocktails nearly half an hour ago and all he has is water and the remnants of french toast. At least the other patrons don’t seem too distressed with their conversation.

“Is he attractive?” Anthony asks, sitting back in his chair. “Because you know, with pornstars, especially men, it's always touch and go.”

Dan sighs. “Of course he’s attractive, Anthony. It doesn’t matter. It’s a  _ job _ . Not a date.”

Anthony makes a face. “Sure, buddy.”

Dan rolls his eyes. He hates Americans and their fucking weirdly friendly sarcasm. He needs new friends.

 

 _The only thing the Lux Oh Bang succeeds in is making me say oh damn_ , Dan types. _And not in a good way._ _It’s buzzier than your phone on vibrate, designed poorly for any kind of comfortable partner use and the subtle sexism of implying an omega would use it in absence of a knot is unsurprising but also laughable_. 

His phone buzzes, falling off the arm of his couch and onto his laptop. He sighs and rubs his eyes. It's probably a sign from the universe that he’s being too harsh. He’d made his name writing unequivocating, sometimes harsh but always funny reviews about sex toys. But now, when it feels like he’s on the cusp of something bigger, he can’t help but wonder if he’s burning bridges he ought to be preserving. 

He picks up his phone to check the messages. He’s got one from a blogger buddy, Aerith, asking him if he’s gotten a chance to try out the Honeyjane Aura yet with a string of emojis that are inexplicable at best. The other is from an unknown number, starting off with  _ hi, is this dan? _ before the preview drifts off into ellipses.

He unlocks his phone, skipping Aerith’s message for now to get to the unknown number. 

_ Hi, is this Dan Howell? This is Phil Lester. Marie, my agent, said she’d get in contact with you, and she will with all business-y stuff but I’m a huge fan of your blog and wanted to say hi! _

Dan stared at his phone. Phil was texting him.  _ Mark Oxin _ Phil Lester was texting him. Should he save the number? Should he save it as Mark or Phil? Should he respond?

“I should respond,” Dan tells himself. “I should respond to the text. Oh god, he’s read my blog. Oh god.”

They’re long out of date, but there are absolutely some of Phil’s videos in the reviews of porn he used to do when he was trying on different writing subjects and styles. There’s a chance he hadn’t gone back that far into the archives of Dan’s blog. Being a fan could mean that he’d read the first couple of reviews and enjoyed them. Hell, it might just mean that he’d read the article on going through heat with partners versus heat using toys that Dan had written last year that went viral. 

He takes a deep breath and pretends his gut isn’t squirming when he types back,  _ Phil, hi! This is Dan. I did talk to Marie, I think we’re set to talk on Monday? _

There. A perfectly normal, professional response. Objectively, he should work on that. Phil’s importance in his younger life aside, Dan is constantly scrabbling for the type of legitimacy omegas rarely get. People in his small circle--his friends, other bloggers, a few professional associates--believe in him and his commitment to his writing, to sex positivity, to omega liberation. But then there are people, like the people that are going to read that Buzzfeed article and reduce him to a slutty omega with a too sharp mouth. He  _ is _ that, but it doesn’t mean he should have to prove to people again and again that he’s also a serious writer. 

He has to get this excitement under control because he doesn't want to give Phil the wrong impression. He knows what he does and he knows what Phil used to do, but they’re meeting up because of a legit article. There are managers and direct deposits and he’s come too far to let the scent of a crush tell Phil that he’s just a hole looking to get filled. 

Dan’s phone buzzes, snapping him out of it. 

“Christ,” he mutters. He pushes his computer to the side and leaves the lounge for the kitchen, shoving his phone into his pocket, messages unread. His therapist had given him a list of things to do when he dissociates that hard and the methodical comfort of cooking simple things he’s cooked a million times had proven to be his favorite.

The skeletal fingers of that night in his flat when he’d shoved Oliver out of his life and swiped away his first career are at his neck, tightening, so he pulls out a saucepan and a whisk, heavy cream and a slab of dark chocolate that was half used.

He sets the pan on the stovetop and flicks it on, watching the glass top go red with heat. As he pours heavy cream into the pot, he takes a deep breath, murmuring to himself.

“You’re more than your assignation,” he says softly, putting down the carton of heavy cream. “And your assignation is more than they tell you it is.”

Dan unwraps the chocolate, starts cutting thin, crumbly slices. The soft, crunching sound of the knife moving through chocolate is just soft enough he has to focus to hear it.  He works quietly, murmuring the mantra to himself until he has a largish pile of slivers of dark chocolate and a just about to boil saucepan of heavy cream. He dumps the pile of chocolate into the cream and stirs, thinking. 

He’ll meet Phil in a few days and the interview will be fine. He’ll read the other interviews Phil has done and ask him about his career and his commitment to androgyny. Maybe he’ll look at Phil a little too long, just amazed at being able to meet him in the flesh, and that will be fine, too. He won’t be unprofessional, because he has no inclination to be unprofessional, and being an omega doesn’t change that at all.  

He pulls out a silicone mold for the ganache to cool in and pours the warm mixture in, setting the whole thing on a cookie sheet. He sprinkles the whole thing with sea salt and cardamom then pushes it into his too-empty refrigerator. 

Dessert secured, he slides down to the kitchen floor, tipping his head back against the fridge. It's easier to breath, bad memories shoved as far away as they ever are. Defiantly, he takes a selfie, notes his messy hair and the way his too large jumper exposes his long, unmarked neck, and posts it anyway. It's so tame, compared to the things he used to let people see, but it still makes his heart flutter.

His phone buzzes again, the same unread message from Phil.

_Oh no, Marie_ _must have gotten my calendar mixed up again, I’m travelling on Monday. We could meet tomorrow? You’re in London, yeah? We could have lunch, my treat. :)_

The old, dark parts of Dan that tell him he’s the worst omega in the world lifts its head at the invitation, tells him that this is an effort to provide for him, the way a good Alpha should.

He shoves those thoughts away and texts a quick affirmation back to Phil, offering him the option to choose where they ate. 

He has ganache in his fridge, a flat all his own with a heavy lock on the front door that only one other person in the country has a key to and a lunch appointment that might be his next big break.   
  
He’ll be fine. He  _ is _ fine. He’ll be great. 


	8. Beginnings I

Phil skates his fingertips across the bony jut of Dan’s hip bones, gently pressing into the thin, pale skin there. Dan’s hard, has been for hours, and so slick between his legs he’s certain he’s creating a wet spot. It feels like they’ve been here for hours, or maybe centuries, Phil teasing him, bringing him closer and closer to the edge and then leaving him there. 

“Stop it,” Dan says, squirming and pressing his hips down against the bed, looking for pressure, or friction or anything like relief. 

Phil flicks his eyes up at Dan, gives him a wicked smile and shifts his weight so he can slip two fingers into Dan’s hole. Dan gasps, clenching his muscles around Phil’s fingers. They slide around like a dream, lighting up his insides as he rocks onto them, letting Phil fill him. 

“Yes,” Dan sighs, closing his eyes and tilting his head back and reaching down to grab Phil’s hand, urging him to fuck Dan faster. Both their hands are covered in Dan’s thick slick, fingers slippery and wet. Dan can feel orgasm creeping up on him, the telltale shivers climbing from his hole and cock up and downward, curling his toes. 

“Yes,” he says again, “Please. Right there. Stay there.”

Phil slides his other hand up Dan’s flank to press his hand against Dan’s side. Dan looks down at him and Phil’s hand on his hip starts vibrating. 

Dan wakes up gasping and grinding onto the pillow that he’d gotten between his legs. Sleepy and disoriented, he reaches out for whatever toy he’d fallen asleep next to and presses it in. It’s one of his favorites, one of Honeyjane’s best products, a dildo named Jolie that used to be too big for him but now slides up in him like a dream. He rides the last tremors of his orgasm on it, catching the small amount of come that spills from his cock in hand, and then, because he can, reaches down to pull it in and out of himself until the final tremors of one orgasm turn into the nervy, wrung out feeling of a second one. Shuddering through it, he presses his face into a pillow, moaning and trying his hardest not to think of Phil looking up at him. He 

Under him, his phone buzzes angrily and until he digs it out and turns the alarm off. 

“Christ,” he sighs, flopping onto his back, clenching around the dildo to wring out the last aftershocks of his orgasm. After laying there for a few minutes, he pulls it out and lays it on his stomach. He’s a mess, come on one hand and fingers pruny from slick in the other, so he just rolls out of bed and heads directly to the shower. 

 

He has a tiny cup of chocolate ganache for breakfast and spends the rest of the morning answering emails and reading the handful of interviews Phil’s done in the past. They’re uncomfortable to read, journalists clearly wanting to talk about Phil’s assignation and Phil deftly evading all their questions about it. He doesn’t talk much about himself, outside of how he got started in porn and how he’s found it over the years. One fun interview asks him about his favorite people to work with and he names three people, an alpha, a beta and omega. 

He’s smart, Dan’s realizing, and tactical and doesn’t give an inch. This interview is starting to feel like a challenge in the best way. 

He heads to the bedroom and opens his closet, staring. His clothing has, historically, been his first layer of armor, carefully crafted to defend against people’s perceptions of him as an omega with an overactive sex drive while not  _ entirely _ denying that. His jeans are black and tight and they always will be. His shoe collection is carefully curated. His shirts are either a mess of irony and humour, the cocoon he’d built when he was trying to convince himself he was nothing special in college and too-expensive designer brands that he loved too much. He dithers between them before finally hauling out a heavy boat-necked sweater that looked perfectly respectable as long as he didn’t shrug, or stop paying it attention, lest it slips down over his shoulder. 

Anthony would call it a powermove, the kind of coquettish thing an omega does to distract a meathead alpha with the suggestion of sex. Dan continues to ignore the Anthony that lives in his head, as he always does. But he makes a mental note to grab his favorite bomber jacket on his way out as well. 

The restaurant Phil suggested is in a predictably hip part of town, on a street bustling with young people. He walks in and scans the half full restaurant, looking for Phil. 

“How many, sir?” the hostess asks, just as someone behind him says, “Dan?”

Dan ignores the way his stomach contracts and turns, smiling. 

Phil is, well. He’s devastating. He’s just a touch shorter than dan and his dark hair hair is swept to the side and his eyes are paler than Dan realized. He looks incredibly normal, skin winter pale against a red and black checked shirt and smile wide, and he’s just devastatingly attractive. Dan suddenly wishes he were the sort of omega that used scent blocking fragrances. 

“Hi!” Dan says, extending a hand. Phil shakes it, warm, dry palm sliding across Dan’s. He’s still smiling and the hostess is still waiting and Dan pulls himself together. He lets go of Phil’s hand and answers the hostess and they both follow her to a small table beside a window, leaving them with menus and a smile. 

“It’s so nice to finally meet you,” Phil says, opening his menu. “I was so excited when Marie told me you’d be doing my interview.”

“I am, too,” Dan tells him, shrugging out of his jacket. “I’ve been a fan of your work for years.”

When he tugs his phone out of his pocket, his sweater slips a little low on his shoulder. He settles it then opens his menu. 

They chitchat while they look at the menu, just about the restaurant and London in general. Dan takes the chance to look at Phil, noting the beginnings of wrinkles at the corner of his eyes and the peek of brown roots just at his hairline. He doesn’t smell like anything in particular, even this close and he seems to always be smiling, even when he’s complaining about the price of some toast with avocado on it. 

When they’ve finally made their orders, Dan pulls up a recording app on his phone and pulls out a small notebook. 

“So,” he says. 

Phil smiles at him and he smiles back. It's infectious. 

“You’ve been a real lighthouse for queer people for so many years,” Dan says, and he hadn’t intended to start with this question, but it feels necessary to cut to the quick, if only to distract himself from how attractive Phil is. “With your decision to keep your assignation private and the ways you take up so many different roles and, er, positions, in your films. You’ve been a real trailblazer, Phil, what made you decide to retire now?”

Phil ducks his head a little, “Well, I guess I wouldn’t say  _ that _ much about myself. I just needed a change. I’ve been working in the industry for a long time and it’s time to move on to something new, y’know?”

Dan nods and sits back in his chair a little. This feels like all the other interviews he’d read from Phil and he’s not satisfied with that. 

“You say you wouldn’t say that much about yourself. Do you read what people have said about you? About not knowing what your assignation is?” It’s rude, maybe, but he wants more, he wants to have earned this interview. 

Phil’s mouth twitches down, almost imperceptibly and he nods. “Not as much now, but I used to read what people said about me. They’re not always the nicest. When they don’t know....I get called all the bad things. Not just omega slurs, but terrible things people say about betas and alphas. I hear all of it.  I think people are confused about why I’d want to give up being an alpha, because that’s what they usually assume. They think betas and omegas couldn’t possibly be able to hide that sort of thing, only alphas are strong enough. They don’t like not knowing. But it's important for people who don’t feel like they fit in one mold or the other. To show that you don’t have to, that you can feel good topping or bottoming and it doesn’t matter.”

Dan snorts, “Yeah, I have some experience with people saying shitty things because they don’t understand.”

Phil nods, “I can’t imagine the kind of comments you probably get all the time on your blog. People really don’t like the thought of omegas doing anything more than just laying there and taking it.”

Dan laughs, “They hate it. They always have. Before I started Delta, I tried Youtube for a while. People said shitty things to me then, too.”

“I did, too!” Phil says, a touch too loud. “I tried it for a few years. It was fun, but I was just making dumb little videos. You were talking about the things you talk about on your blog.”

Dan flushes a little and shakes his head, “I’m doing the interview here, mister, not you.”

Phil holds his hands up, laughing. “Fair, I’ll stop asking questions. But we’re going to have to make some time to talk about you, I’m way too interested now. Blogging and youtube? That’s too much interesting history to deny me, Dan.”

Dan fakes a long-suffering sigh and nods, “Maybe, if you give me enough material to work with. That means you can’t avoid my questions like you’ve done in all your other interviews.”

Phil laughs and poorly feigns innocence, “I’d never do something like that, but I do like a man who can bargain. Story for a story?”

Dan shrugs, “I’m sure we can work something out.”

The waitress comes, bringing them their food. Dan thanks her and when she’s gone, he catches Phil abruptly looking up at him. He slips his shirt back on his shoulder and raises an eyebrow. 

Phil smiles at him and leans forward, “A story for a story, right? I can tell you about the best scene I’ve ever done. Do you know Ravina Divine?”

Dan carefully controls his facial expression and nods, leaning forward and pushing his phone a little closer. 

They stay in the restaurant through a whole meal, dessert and coffee. They only leave because the place needs to close to prepare for dinner. 

“That was amazing,” Dan tells Phil, tugging on his jacket as they walk out of the restaurant. “Thank you so much, I think I got everything I need.”

“I don’t think it was exactly story for story,” Phil jokes, reaching out to straighten Dan’s collar. His thumb brushes the bare expanse of Dan’s shoulder as he pulls away and Dan clears his throat to cover the thrill that passes through him. 

“No, but you’re not getting paid to hear my boring shit,” Dan says, smiling at him. “Really, Phil. I know you don’t think you’re that important but you’re a really big deal for omegas...for people like me.”

Phil shrugs, running a hand across the back of his neck. “Thanks, Dan. Let me know if you need any more info, okay? You’ve got my number and a lot of my traveling is riding around while trying not to puke. Motion sickness.”

Dan nods, “Definitely. I really think we’re good, but if I need anything else…”

“And,” Phil says, “I’d like to meet up again, if you’re interested? I definitely want to hear your boring story. In fact, I think it's not that boring at all.”

“Oh,” Dan says, “Sure! Of course. Just let me know when you’re back in town?”

“Will do,” Phil says, shooting him a thumbs up. “I’ve got to go, do you hug?”

Dan doesn’t, traditionally speaking, hug. But he holds his arms out and Phil laughs and pulls him closer. 

Phil still doesn’t smell of anything at all, this close up, but his hands spread big across Dan’s back and his body is lean and warm against Dan’s. 

“I’ll talk to you later, yeah?” he says, his deep voice shivering against Dan’s chest. 

“Yeah,” Dan says, pulling away. He sounds a little breathless and he’s certain Phil’s eyes flick down to where he’s biting his lip.

“Bye,” Phil says, his hands sliding across Dan’s sides as he lets go. It's forward, too forward probably, but it makes Dan want to purr.

“Bye,” Dan says. He’s a professional. He’s a professional. God, he hopes the smells of the city and the people around him cover up the smell of the slick that’s started between his legs.

Phil gives him a little wave then turns away. Dan watches him walk away, eyes tracing the breadth of his shoulders and the slight cinch of his waist and his long, long legs. Dan hasn’t topped someone in a while, but he can just imagine those legs wrapped around his waist. 

He walks in the opposite direction, pulling out his phone to text Anthony. He needs to blow off steam and Anthony is always tragically up for that sort of thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All these company and toy names are bastardizations of real toys and companies btw. If you ever wanna do some hunting.


	9. Beginnings II

Dan’s on his knees, back sloped downward, thighs shaking. He’s so wet there’s slick slipping down his thighs and Phil is behind him, pushing in and in and in and it's just not enough. He’s mashing his face into a pillow to muffle the noises he’s making but it's not helping. Phil’s so close and so hot his hips pressing into Dan and it’s just  _ not enough _ .

“More,” Dan says, shoving his hips back. “I need more.”

Phil mutters something Dan can’t understand, because this is a dream, but it still feels so good when he reaches down to grab his cock. 

“Dan?” Phil says and Dan groans in response. 

“Dan?” he says again, “Dan?”

Dan opens his eyes and jerks back, away from Anthony. 

“Someone’s having a good dream,” Anthony says, glancing down Dan’s body. “Good thing I already knew I was being used.”

“Ugh,” Dan says, flopping back onto the pillow. “You use me all the time. Now get out, I need to masturbate.”

Anthony stares at him, “We literally had sex six hours ago. And who are you having these dreams about, Jesus.”

Dan grabs a pillow to toss at him. “None of your business. Go make us coffee.”

Anthony grumbles about being taken advantage of, but he still rolls out of bed, grabbing one of Dan’s jumpers to throw on as he walks out of the room. 

Dan presses a hand to his eyes. That was two dreams in a row. Less intense this time, at least he hadn’t woke up coming. And it didn’t matter anyway, he’d interviewed Phil and written the majority of the article anyway, he was free to have whatever fantasies he wanted without worrying about it showing up in his article. 

He shoved his hand under his pillow and grabbed the tiny bullet vibrator that he’d thrown to the side last night. Anthony loved the thing, even if Dan didn’t have any use for it most of the time, so he kept it around. He turned it on and closed his eyes, trying to remember the way Phil smelled when they hugged the day before.

  
  


_ Phil Lester isn’t who you think he is. It’s a cheap shot to reduce sex work to being less important than any other work, but it’d be incorrect to reduce him to only a porn star. He’s doing revolutionary work, upending our assumptions about what a person can look like outside of their assignation, during sex, but also in life. He’s unerringly polite and frustratingly modest and since he won’t let me tell him how important he’s been in the life and development of young queer people like myself, reader, I’ll just have to tell you. _

 

Dan watches Anthony read the last few sentences of his article. The detritus of breakfast surrounds them, half empty coffee cups, a plate of eggs doused in sriracha, plain and raisin toast and three stacked ramekins that used to hold the last of the chocolate ganache. Dan hadn’t planned to show Anthony the article but Anthony had asked about it and Dan had been overcome with anxiety that his hard on for Phil was a little  _ too _ obvious in the text.  

“Well?” Dan says after a few moments of silence. “What do you think?”

Anthony leans back against the couch, resting his chin in his hand. “I watched some of his videos last night after you fell asleep, just to see what you were fussing about. I thought I had a bit of a crush on him. The whole androgyny thing, works for my whole sexually confused thing.”

Dan narrows his eyes, waiting for a point.

“I was wrong,” Anthony tells him breezily. “I had no idea what it looked like to have a crush on him before I read this article.”

Dan rolls his eyes and throws a cushion at Anthony, who laughs and catches it easily. 

“I’m serious, man. No wonder you were all hot and bothered the other day. To think you were out here flirting with  _ revolutionaries _ and still bothered fooling around with little old me.”

Dan toys with the idea of saying something cuttingly mean to Anthony but opts instead to ask, “So, it's good? Good enough for print?”

Anthony shrugs. “I’m sure there’s some copy edit thing that I’m missing but yeah, Dan. It’s good.”

Dan sighs, running a hand through his hair. “It's not too obvious?”

“What?” Anthony asks.

Dan glares at him. 

“Oh!” Anthony says, voice falsely surprised. “Did you mean the massive, massive horn you have for him? Yes, but only because I know you really well.”

“I was going to let you hang out the rest of the day,” Dan tells him, shoving his foot into Anthony’s thigh. “I was going to cook you that potato thing. I’ve changed my mind.”

Anthony rolls his eyes. “I was about to leave anyway. Gym and then some meetings. I can come back for the potato thing though?”

It never fails to amuse Dan that he’d picked up a Youtube star for a begrudged best friend. It also confirms for him that he’d have hated that life. There’s so much Anthony has to hide, so many unofficial expectations he has to live up to. 

“If you pick up my packages,” Dan acqueises, ignoring Anthony’s groan. Package runs were no joke in the Howell household, boxes of toys added up after a while and he hadn’t picked them up in a few days. 

 

Dan’s in the kitchen, cubing potatoes for the curry Anthony referred to only as “the potato thing”, hopeless American he is, when Dan’s phone buzzes. He wipes one starchy hand on a tea towel and checks the message. 

_ I’ll be back home next Fri Will you be in a story telling mood then? _

Dan stares at the message. 

He’d thought Phil was joking, flirting with the sexy blogger to get a better write up. That made sense. He didn’t know what to do with... _ this _ . 

“Anthony!” he calls over his shoulder. 

“Yeah?” Anthony ambles in, hopping up on one of the dark stone countertops, swinging his legs.

Sometimes, times like these, Dan wishes Anthony had made up his mind during the memorable period when they tried to date properly. They’d been good together, and Anthony fit in his life surprisingly well for all the ways he probably should have triggered Dan sheerly by existing--a young omega trying to balance sexual experimentation and unsureness with an increasingly public career. But they didn’t work, and didn’t try again, and now Anthony was sitting on his countertop reading a text from his pornstar crush who shouldn’t really be texting him. 

“Huh,” Anthony says, reading the message. “Are you free?”

Dan goes back to his potatoes. “I mean, yes, I’m my own boss, I’m free whenever, that’s not the point.”

“What’s the point?” Anthony asks, sounding distracted. 

“The point is that he’s a famous porn star and I’m a  _ blogger _ . And I’m writing about him! I’ve written about him. It's a weird relationship imbalance, and I’m supposed to be a professional. This isn’t professional, I can’t be  _ friends _ with someone I’m writing about.”

“You didn’t write about me when we were dating?”

Dan pauses. His personal posts about Anthony--whose name had to be changed, and details changed almost completely--had done spectacularly well and were partly instrumental in Dan’s jump from blogger to Blogger, but that was beside the point. “I did, but that’s different. You weren’t that famous then.”

Anthony laughs that hollow, almost-real laugh that reminds Dan that they’re not talking about the way his views have been declining lately. 

“Either way,” Anthony says, looking at him with big brown eyes that are so different from Phil’s, “You’re having lunch at two on Friday.”

Dan’s squawk is undignified and not half as loud as Anthony’s laugh. 

 

Dan’s nails are ragged by the time Friday rolls around and he’s gone round and round a million times with himself about whether he should cancel their lunch. Every time he’d called Anthony, or, one memorable time, Cat, to mock him until he changes his mind. So now, he’s standing outside of another slightly too fancy restaurant, waiting for Phil to show up. 

It’s warm outside, warmer than Dan expected and he’s had to abandon his jacket in favor of the crepe thin shirt he’d thrown on beneath it. The waiter was probably going to judge his nipples or something. 

“Hey!” Phil says and Dan turns toward him. 

Apparently, being devastatingly handsome wasn’t a fluke and somehow only enhanced by the thick rimmed glasses Phil was wearing today. Dan needed a drink. 

“Hi there,” he says and goes when Phil opens up his arms as soon as he gets within hugging distance of Dan. He still doesn’t smell like anything and it's still disorienting. Dan can’t remember how long a professionally appropriate hug lasts. Phil’s wrists are boney, and they press a little uncomfortably into Dan’s back. The hug goes on longer than it should, maybe, and Phil’s hands press against his sides as he steps back, just like last time. 

Phil asks, “How’ve you been?”

Dan considers telling him the truth. He’s had people make whole temporary homes inside of his body, warm and closely held, just on the strength of a slow smile and an admission of “I’ve been thinking about you”. 

But Phil is Phil and Dan doesn’t know what that makes either of them to each other, so he lifts a shoulder in a shrug and just says, “Oh, I’m alright.”

Phil frowns and Dan thinks wildly that he’s seen that mouth attached to an alpha’s cunt, jaw working furiously. It's grounding.

“If you say so,” Phil says, shrugging back and smiling. Dan feels like he’s been put under a microscope and he’s just waiting for Phil to call him out.

Instead, Phil suggests they go inside and starts talking about getting American style pancakes for lunch.

 

Dan thinks he’s joking until they’re sat and have ordered, Phil’s American style pancakes on the way along with Dan’s quinoa and sweet potato salad.

“So,” Phil says and Dan braces himself for the questions. Whenever anyone asks him about his job, they either start with “how’d you get started” or “do your parents know”. He’s never sure if he prefers to talk about the threat of sexual assault that had him scurrying away from his taste of fame or his strained relationship with his mother. He’d pick either of them over the calls from his father, every six months like clockwork, always asking if he’s come to his senses and found a good alpha yet. 

Phil doesn’t ask either. Instead he says, “So you were in my dream yesterday.”

Dan makes a listening noise and certainly doesn’t choke on lemony water.

“My grandma was a psychic,” Phil says, pressing his hands against the pale wood of the table top. “She taught me to always believe in my dreams.”

Dan wills his cheeks not to go up in flames. “What, ah, what was I doing?”

“You were in my apartment,” Phil says, watching him. “On my couch. With me.”

“Mhm?” Dan says, licking his suddenly dry lips.

“We were talking. About my book. I want you to help me write it.”

Dan’s eyes widened and his stomach drops to his feet. “You’re writing a book?”

Phil nods, “I’m writing a book. A memoir. It's obnoxious, but Marie says it's a good idea.”

“And you want me to help you write it,” Dan asks.

Phil keeps nodding, his smile growing into a full on grin. “I do. I meant it when I said I was a fan. I like your writing, Dan, and I don’t have the foggiest idea how to even start this project.”

Dan realizes he’s been nodding. He stops and brings his thumb to his mouth to worry at the blunt nail. A book. A  _ book _ . He’s written longer things, and he writes nonfiction all day long but co-writing a memoir?

“I’ll do it,” Dan says. “I need. I’ll need to figure out what to do with the blog, and make a plan. Fuck, I’m going to have to give my plants to Anthony. When is the deadline?”

“Dan,” Phil laughs, holding his hands up. “We can figure all that out. I didn’t think you’d say yes so fast. We’ll figure everything else out later, let’s celebrate, yeah? Do you drink?”

Dan definitely drinks. He’s going to need several to process what’s just happened. He watches Phil wave one of his big hands to call the waiter over. He’s going to need so many drinks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hark, a plot!


	10. Beginnings III

“Holy shit,” Cat says from Dan’s computer. He’s clumsily unpacking boxes, still tipsy from the champagne Phil had insisted they split. 

“Yeah,” Dan sighs, pulling out a vibrating plug. “He’s doing a ton of travelling the next month and asked me to come with him so we can get a jump on starting a draft. We’re going to stop in California. You should come visit.”

“Definitely,” Cat says nodding, “Are you going to go on hiatus from the blog? How long are you going to be travelling, is Anthony housesitting?”

Dan shrugs, tipping his head back onto the couch. “Yes to the housesitting, no to the hiatus. I’ve got all the stuff I’m testing for the next couple articles, I’ve just gotta take them with me.”

Cat nods, “Maybe Phil can write a guest article?”

Dan’s cheeks heat up. It's not a bad idea at all, Phil’s name certainly has the kind of culture cache right now that would benefit the blog. But Dan can’t imagine opening up his toy testing chest and asking Phil to pick whatever tickles his fancy.

“I think it's probably a bad idea to ask your boss to try out sex toys for you,” Dan says, pulling another package closer, tugging at the tape. 

“I mean, sure,” Cat says, laughing a little. “But he’s not really your boss, is he? You’re collaborators. He’s your co-worker. He’s certainly done more with co-workers.”

Dan grimaces. “It's not that kind of job, Cat. You know that, right?”

Cat waves a hand, dismissive, “No, I know. But you could probably loosen up a little, Dan. No one’s going to be scandalized by you doing your job.”

Dan scoffs, people are scandalized by him doing his job all the time, Cat doesn’t know what she’s talking about. 

“I gotta go,” he says, finally tearing the tape off the brown box and pulling it open. It's one of those self-thrusting dildos this time, exciting.

“Tell me when you’re going to be in California,” Cat says. “Oh shit, one of the dogs is puking. Just text me!”

Dan waves until Cat cuts the call off. 

Sighing, he opens up his calendar, looking at the dates Phil mentioned they’d be travelling. The first two weeks are easy enough, just visits to universities around England. Things get a little crazier after that, a flight to France, and then a month on the North American continent, bouncing back and forth between America and Canada. It's two and a half months altogether, two and a half months of living in each other’s pocket. Marie’s going to some of the stops in Europe but once they go overseas, it's just them. 

Dan presses a hand to his warm cheeks. He’ll have three heats in that time period. It’ll be fine. Phil promised him they’d never have to share a hotel room. Marie was going to get in contact with him tomorrow with a preliminary contract and he could negotiate to make sure he had those days off. He’s already thinking through the arrangements he needs to make, reminders he needs to set up. Two and a half months with Phil. He can handle that. Maybe close contact for that long will cure him of the crush he’s gestating. Maybe.

He finishes opening boxes and puts all the items he’s gotten away. Feeling restless, he pulls on his shoes and grabs his wallet, heading down to the shops. It’s cooler now than it was earlier in the day, and he absently notices his nipples perking up at the first bluster of a chilly breeze. He ignores the alpha on the other side of the pavement that also notices, blatantly eyeing him. The alpha doesn’t say anything to Dan and he doesn’t acknowledge her as she passes by. Of course when she’s gone, he relaxes, surprised to realize he’d even tensed up. Shaking his head, he continues to the grocer, trying not to dwell on anything alphas do too seriously. 

While picking through fruit, he absently wonders if he’ll have a chance to cook while they’re on the road. Staring at balls of pasta, he wonders what Phil’s favorite food is. Grabbing a piece of candy right before he checks out, he’s struck with the image of making spring rolls with Phil, the way his hands would fold the delicate wrapping around the chopped vegetables. 

“You and your alpha have a successful mating, sweetheart,” the elderly woman ringing him up says. Dan looks at his purchases and realized he’s bought nothing but meat, cheese and fruit, easy to prepare, easy to store. Christ. 

He thanks the woman, not even bothering to fight her on the alpha thing and walks home. His cheeks still feel warm, though there’s no way he’s still drunk and the wind is  _ cooler _ but not so cool that his body should have responded like that. But it doesn’t make sense, he’s not due for another heat this soon. It's a cold, Dan decides, just his body getting ready for being ill.

Dan wakes up the next morning sweating. He curses to himself. He isn’t a stranger to an off schedule heat but he doesn’t have the  _ time _ . He’s got to talk to Marie and make sure the packages he’s set to receive have been rerouted to hotels, he’s got to tell Anthony how to take care of the plants, he has so many things to do and none of them have to do with attending to the warm pulse between his legs. 

He gets up out of bed, his deliciously soft bed, loaded high with pillows and blankets that smell like him and just a little like all the good heats he’s had over the years, and leaves the bedroom. Maybe it’ll be easier if he can’t  _ see _ the bed and think of all his favorite toys in one of the bedside tables. 

Instead he curls up on the couch and opens his computer, greeted by all the emails. He closes his eyes and whines. Being an adult sucks. 

He spends the next few hours working, surprising himself with how well he’s able to ignore his heat when he gets wrapped up in figuring out logistics and working on some broken links and putting up discount codes on the blog.  _ Delta _ is due for a site-wide update and despite what he told Cat yesterday, he thinking about putting it on hiatus for at least one of the months he’ll be gone to have someone update the whole look of it.

He’s still thinking about this when Facetime rings. He hesitates to answer for a moment, seeing Phil’s name, then changes his mind. 

“Hi!” Phil says. His phone is a little too close to his face and Dan can tell he’s walking somewhere. The sight of him makes the banked heat of Dan’s body flare up. 

“Hi there,” Dan greets him. He’s trying for normal but judging from the way Phil looks at the phone it came out a little more like a purr than Dan wanted. 

“I just wanted to see if you’d gotten the papers from Marie. And also to say hello. Hello!”

Dan wonders what Phil’s like a night time. He wonders if his voice is always this soft, pleasant burr, or if it ever gets lower, what it’d feel like to hear him moan while his mouth was working on Dan’s cunt, or how the vibrations would sound around Dan’s cock. 

“Dan?” Phil asks.

“Yes!” Dan says, focusing. “Marie. Papers. Yes. I got them yesterday. I haven’t had a chance to look at them in depth but Anthony’s agent, my friend, Anthony? She agreed to look things over. It's not exactly the same, entertainment law and...I don’t know publishing? But things seem pretty cut and dry.”

“I’ve got no idea,” Phil says, smiling at him, “I haven’t looked at a contract since Marie and I started working together. She could be robbing me blind for all I know.”

“I don’t think anyone could stand to do that.” Dan laughs. 

“Are you feeling ok, Dan?” Phil asks, “You look a little feverish.”

“Oh, um,” Dan looks away. “I’m fine. It's just a bit warm in the apartment.”

And in my pants, he thinks. God, Phil’s always so warm. His hands on Dan’s sides had been like brands, his torso had been like a furnace against Dan’s arms. 

Dan realizes his fingers are playing with the hem of his briefs, high up on his thigh, dangerously close to being pushed aside. As soon as he thinks it, the idea consumes him. He’s sitting on the floor, the laptop on the coffee table. All Phil can see is the middle of his chest up. He’d never know.

“Ah, yeah, English summers,” Phil says. “My nan once said that the hotter the summer, the more…”

Phil keeps prattling on about the summer and Dan traces his thumb across the bulge of his cock in his underwear, huffing a quiet, punched out sound. He can’t do this. He isn’t. 

“I had this shoot,” Phil says, and he’s watching where he’s walking, not looking at Dan and treating him to a chance to catalog all the different, fascinating parts of Phil’s face. 

“It was a gangbang, in this warehouse, in the middle of summer, and I was bottoming. I swear I thought I was going to die.”

Dan laughs and makes listening noises, trailing his flat palm down his cock to press against his hole. He rocks against his hand a little, imagining which of Phil’s scenes he’s talking about right now. 

“I was sucking this guy off, he’s an alpha so he’s talking about how he’s going to knot my throat, blah blah.” 

 

This isn’t the first time they’ve talked about Phil’s work, obviously, but the first time, in the restaurant, had been much more about this business and the response his scenes have gotten, not details about what he was doing in them. If Dan closes his eyes, he could see some alpha pressing their cock down Phil’s throat, holding him until he chokes, muttering about keeping him there until they knot. 

“I’m dying, people are off to the side with water, and fans, but it doesn’t really matter when there are four guys on top of you. Ugh, it was so sticky!”

Phil probably thinks he’s just distracted but Dan can’t pretend he’s doing anything other than masturbating. He’s massaging his cock through his underwear, gently fucking up into his hand. The material is damp where the base of his cock meets the top of his cloaca and there’s a spot of slick precome on his stomach where the head of his cock rests. He shrugs his body down a little, to get into a better angle, hoping Phil doesn’t notice.

“And then he just falls on top of me!” Phil says. Dan laughs along, desperately trying to remember the middle of the story. Phil keeps talking about nothing, and Dan watches his mouth move. He imagines that mouth on him and realizes he’s breathing heavily, too heavy for Phil to not notice. 

“I, um, I need to go,” Dan says, looking around for an excuse to leave. “Anthony’s just gotten here. I’ll talk to you later?”

“Oh! Of course,” Phil looks a little surprised, but he goes easy, hanging up with a jaunty little wave. 

As soon as the call ends, Dan’s shoving his briefs down, just low enough that he can get a hand between his legs, pushing his middle and index finger into himself. He’s hot inside, slick and slippery. He grabs his cock in his other hand and lets his head fall back against the couch, riding his fingers roughly. It's short work, his orgasm shaking through him as he presses his hips back and forth, fucking himself through it. 

When he’s done, he pulls his fingers out and sticks them in his mouth, cleaning the slick from his fingers. Of course, he’s still in heat, so the satisfaction only lasts for a few moments before the itch starts again. Ignoring it, he tugs his underwear back on and opens another email, determined to make a dent in his to-do list.

 

There’s a message from Phil on his computer. It just says  _ hope you and Anthony have fun! Looks like you’ve been working through it for a few hours. Hope I helped ;) _   
Dan stares at it. Phil  _ knew _ . 

 

He clicks away from Phil’s name and scrolls through his contacts a bit, choosing one.

 

_ I’m giong to hell _ , Dan’s message bubble says. 

_???  _ is the response he gets. 

_ You remember Mark Oxin? The porn star we liked? _

_ Yeah. Also, hi? _

Dan grimaces. 

_ Hi I’m sorry it's been so long. I interviewed him. That’s not his real name btw. It's Phil. Phil Lester. _

_ You’re always sorry _ .  _ But that’s really cool. Is that why you’re going to hell? _

_ No. He wants me to help write his memoir. _

_ Cool. Not a hellable offense? _

Dan laughs and stares at the messages. The last time they talked, he’d promised to stay in touch. He hadn’t. And now they’re here.

_ I like him.  _

His facetime rings and he answers it immediately. Harper looks at him, unimpressed. 

“I figured I could at least watch you squirm, if you’re going to take this long,” 

She’s in bed, surrounded by pillows, and there’s someone’s head resting on her shoulder.

“Hi, Dan,” a disembodied voice says. Dan grimaces. 

“Heeeeey Sophie.”

Harper rolls her eyes. “You’re in heat. Shouldn’t you be off somewhere fucking.”

“That would be part of why I called. I almost wanked while talking to Phil today.”

Harper snorted and Sophie head moved a little. Dan assumes she’s also laughing at him. 

“When are we going to get to the actual issue, Dan?” Harper stares at him and Dan’s struck with how much he misses them. All of them. 

“We’re writing this memoir and we’re going to be travelling together and I’m just trying not to ruin things, Harp. This could be a big break for me, bigger than anything and I’ve just got to keep my legs closed. I don’t want to  _ date _ anyone and he’s...you can’t have a one night stand with the person who might be signing your paychecks for a long time.”

There’s a little bit of a scramble and he’s suddenly looking at Sophie. He hasn’t seen Sophie in a longer time than he’s not seen Harper. Her face has filled out and she looks...well she looks very pregnant. Which makes sense. He may not be talking to them but he still checks up on them online. And he’d sent a little gift in lieu of going to their baby shower.

“You like him,” she says. 

Sophie was closer with Oliver. She’s the one who pushed for Dan to talk to him again, and she’s the one that gave him a wide berth when he said no. Harper had chosen him and it had almost split her and Sophie apart. Now, it feels like he should apologize for daring to like someone in the wake of his unfinished ending with Oliver. Instead, he nods. 

“That’s the first thing you said,” Sophie watches him. “Before all this bullshit about him being your boss, which isn’t how that works, the publishers are your boss. You said you liked him. Stop making excuses to run from your feelings, Dan.”

Dan rolls his eyes, “Fuck off, Soph. It’s not that. Not everything is about  _ feelings _ .”

“Right,” Sophie snorts, “You called for advice in the middle of your heat because of a fuck you can’t have. Sure.” 

Harper takes the phone back before Dan can say something else biting.

“Listen,” she says sighing. “Don’t shit where you eat. If you like him now, you’ll still like him when this project is done. We need you getting your name on the map way more than you need to act on a crush. If it's something more, you’ll feel the same way when all of this is done.”

Dan nods. That feels doable. 

“Now,” Harper says, settling back, “Since you’re here, let’s talk about that bullshit gift you got us instead of coming to our shower.”

Dan cringes but settles in for the scolding he deserves. 

 

He finally goes back to bed at half-six, hours earlier than he would have normally. By the time Harper had finished chewing him out and then teasing him a little about having to work during his heat he’d ran out of will power to ignore the tingling distraction of his heat. 

With nothing left for him to do today, he lays in bed and closes his eyes, feeling his body. His skin is sensitive, nipples tight in the cool air of his bedroom. Every breath is full of his own scent and his skin is raised into gooseflesh. Nestled against his side is the one his favorite toys, a simple, single piece of rose quartz carved into a dildo with a wicked curve on the end. He grabs it and presses it against his hole, hissing a little at the stinging stretch. He’s been wet for hours but hasn’t had anything bigger than a few of his own fingers inside. The wand is wider than that easily and when it slides he feels so full he can’t help but groan. He pulls it out and pushes it in for a few slow, experimental thrusts, just long enough to get used to the stretch. When it slides easily, and his hand and thighs are wet with his slick he starts a slow, mean grind, and closes his eyes, trying not imagine anything at all. He’s teasing the rim of his hole with the bulbous head of the toy when his phone rings. He ignores it, angling the wand to rub against the top of his hole near the thin strip of skin that separates his cock and hole. It's a different kind of pressure that feels like it reverberates somewhere in his spine and leaves him panting and makes his hole flutter. 

His phone stops ringing, then starts again. He keeps ignoring it, instead plunging the wand back into himself. He flips over onto his stomach so he can roll his hips, riding the toy and pressing his teeth into his forearm. It’s good, it's so good, but it's not going to be enough. 

His phone starts ringing again as he’s reaching for the bullet vibrator--a different one than Anthony’s favorite but from one of his favorite companies. 

Irritated, he hits answer on the phone, grunting out, “ _ What _ ?”

There’s a pause and then, of course, Phil says, “Dan?”

Dan feels like he feels a gush of fresh slick. That’s not how his biology works, but hearing Phil’s voice turns all the sensations he’s feeling up to eleven. If he wasn’t in heat, he’d probably be horrified, and he’d definitely be remembering Harper and Sophie’s advice right now, to just leave it alone. 

But he’s been in heat for hours now, alone, and the sound of Phil’s voice feels like cold water down his spine, shocking and snatching the breath right out of him. He should say goodbye, but instead he presses the button to turn on the bullet vibrator and shoves it between the mattress and his cock. 

“Hey,” he says, not even trying not to sound wrecked. “What’s up?”

“Marie needed your birthday for booking flights...is this a bad time?” Phil asks.

“Mm,” Dan says, not bothering to answer the second part of Phil’s question. “June 11. 91.”

“Thanks,” Phil says, then, brightly, “How’s your heat going?”

Dan laughs. He doesn’t get fuzzyheaded during his heat. He gets decisive. He gets honest.

“Better now,” he says then sighs. “Since you called.”

Phil’s silent for long enough that Dan thinks he might have read this wrong. He’s just about to apologize when Phil says, “Since I called?”

“Yeah,” Dan says, leaving the wand to press the vibrator to the bottom side of his cock. He doesn’t bother muffling his whimper. 

“Are you…” Phil doesn’t finish the sentence. He doesn’t need to.

“Yeah, yeah, I am,” Dan says. “I’ve got this really cool wand in me and a bullet vibe. I was just about to get one of the knotting dildos.”

“How long do your heats last?”

“They’re short.” Dan licks his lips. “Short and hard. Harder when I haven’t seen anyone all day.”

“No one to stretch you out,” Phil asks. Dan’s suspicions were right, his voice has gone deep and dark. “No one to put you on your knees, or your back. No one to eat you up. You probably taste so good.”

Dan knows what Phil looks like when he’s fucking someone from behind, pressing their shoulders down onto the mattress and maintain a steady, maddening rhythm. But he wants to know what Phil  _ smells _ like, what his sweat tastes like, how his skin would feel, sticky and damp against Dan’s. 

“You’re probably so pretty right now,” Phil breaths, “Split open, all wet and pink.”

Dan whines and says, “Yeah, yes. Wet for you. Since this morning.”

Phil laughs, his laugh is the same, afternoon bright even now. “I didn’t think my story was that boring. Good to know. You were fucking yourself while we were talking? While I was watching you?”

“I wanted to,” Dan abandons the vibrator to attend to the wand, fucking himself with it. It's not quite enough anymore, but he doesn’t want to ruin the moment by moving around. Every time it sinks into him it feels like fireworks across his body, starting in his core. He grinds down on the wand, searching for the perfect angle.

“What would you want to do if I was there?” Phil’s not even wanking, Dan doesn’t think. It only drives him more wild, the thought of Phil just a few steps away from a meeting or dinner and still playing conductor to Dan’s heatwank.

“Ride your face,” Dan tells him easily, too far gone off heat and fucking himself to consider consequences. “Make you eat me til your jaw gets tired and then ride you til we both came.” The thought of Phil pressing the fat, dripping head of his cock into Dan brings him too close too fast, he has to pull the wand out to catch his breath.

“Is that it?” Phil asks, sounding amused.

“I almost came,” Dan admits. 

“Is that bad?” Phil asks and Dan presses his eyes closed.

He reaches down drag his fingers through the slickness and feels the relaxed clench of his whole. He’s close, drooling with slick and contracting around his fingers. He pushes the wand back in and slides a finger in next to it. He wants the stretch and the burn to take him over the edge. 

“If I were there,” Phil says conversationally, “I’d want to suck your cock. People are always so weird about that, as if omegas’ cocks don’t work like everyone else’s. I’d let you come down my throat and then I’d eat you out and finger you until you came again. Do you want that, Dan? Do you want me to get on my knees for you? Let you come down my throat as many times as you can? You could fuck me, too.”

“Whatever you want,” Dan agrees, speeding up his thrusting and moaning. “Anything, any hole, my cock, anything, anything.”

“Then what are you waiting for?” Phil asks, “Be a dear and come for me.”

Dan comes with a cry, cock spurting as he clenches around the wand, the thought of Phil’s hand on his body, pounding into his hot, tight hole. He comes for a long time, every wave of contractions turning into a shuddering jerk of his hips.

When he can finally talk again, he manages to say, “That was...wow.”

He squeezes his hole, just to feel the shadows of final contractions.

“Hopefully a good wow,” Phil laughs. “Sleep well, Dan. I’ll get Marie your info so we can book the flights.”

Dan stares at the phone in dazed astonishment as Phil says goodbye then hangs up.

Oh fuck. What did he just  _ do _ ?

He fucked up. He’s certain he just fucked up so badly. He never should have answered the phone. 


	11. Beginnings IV

The next day is tense. Dan gets up and leaves his phone in his bedroom and heads for the kitchen rather than open his computer. He makes himself french toast and when that goes too quickly, he chops berries to macerate into syrup and makes a quick caramel sauce to go with them. He does his best not to think of anything at all as he drops butter into the sizzling sugar and stirs. 

It works for a while, but eventually he’s left with an anxious stomach and pots of sweets he doesn’t want. The edges of heat are still there, showing up in the flush of his cheeks and the loneliness. Normally, he’d make excuses to invite friends over and cuddle them without acknowledging why he was so touchy. But that would require calling them and he can’t stand to look at his phone.

Instead, he cleans his kitchen, and when that doesn’t take long enough he walks through the house, picking up errant shipping boxes, arranging them next to the door to be taken out. Distantly, he hears his phone ring. He ignores it in favor of straightening out the lounge. 

Finally, because there’s nothing else for him to do, he sits at his computer, opening up a blank document. What sort of questions does he have about Phil? What sort of thing does he need to know?

Staring at the blinking cursor, he realizes he doesn’t know  _ anything _ . He doesn’t know where Phil’s from, what he’d done before he started porn. All he knows is about Phil’s experience in the business, the ways he’s negotiated keeping his assignation a secret, some of his favorite people to work with and for. It's all softball, the kind of things Dan could have figured out from some enthusiastic googling. 

“Fuck,” Dan says, letting his head drop into his hands. He’d convinced himself that his fascination, his attraction to Phil had been  _ feelings _ and not just lust. He’d potentially ruined a business partnership over a heat and some sex dreams.

There’s a part of him that sounds like Tony, and his father, and every other person who has heard that he’s an omega and assumes they know everything about him. That part of him makes knowing noises. 

_ Of course you did _ , he thinks.  _ Because you’re an omega, and omegas are built for laying down and spreading their legs for the most appealing alpha. _

Dan’s stomach turns at the thought. He doesn’t even know that Phil’s an alpha, but the thought of it makes his chest feel tight. Things are different if Phil’s an omega or beta, Dan might have done the same thing, but it's not the same thing as spreading his thighs for an alpha.   
  


Dan’s not stupid. He knows that he has issues with alphas, as easily as he knows he hasn’t been knotted by anyone more than once since Oliver. He knows it's why he gravitates toward betas and omegas, even if he doesn’t necessarily have a preference in who he’s attracted to.

But the thought of Phil being an alpha is unsettling in a different way. He’s feels guilty, but not repulsed in the way so many alphas make him feel. And below the guilt and anxiety, there’s a nugget of intrigue. That’s the worst part of all, perhaps. That he writes about omega liberation all day and talks about all the ways alphas have failed him, but the thought of Phil being an alpha, being  _ the _ alpha in his life isn’t...awful.

Dan shakes his head. It doesn’t matter. None of it matters. What matters is he still doesn’t know where to begin asking Phil questions, assuming he still has a job.

And if he does, is Phil going to expect this of him again? Or will he think that this is Dan’s way of climbing the ladder to success, or even bigger deals. 

Dan closes his computer and goes to his bedroom to put on clothes. He reluctantly grabs his phone, still not looking at it, and a jacket. 

It's still early enough in the morning to be chilly, and the streets are empty of the morning traffic. 

 

Dan walks aimlessly, glancing at the businesses and coffee shops that start popping up the further he gets from his flat. When he’s further out, away from his normal haunts, he picks a cafe randomly. It’s pleasantly bright inside and the barista smiles at him as she takes his order. He sits in a cushy chair next to one of the large windows and watches the city pass by. 

When  his phone rings, it's Phil. Maybe, he thinks ruefully, if they’re still talking after this phone call, Phil should get his own ringtone. 

“Hello,” he says, bracing himself for awkwardness. 

“Morning, Dan!” Phil says, sunny as ever. “Marie sent your ticket confirmations over, in case you haven’t seen them.”

“I...hadn’t. I’ll check my email when I get home.” Dan waits for Phil to respond.

“Great. And you’ve already talked to her about the contract,” Phil mumbles to himself and Dan can faintly hear the sound of pen on paper. Is Phil crossing off an actual checklist?

“I figured we could do some questions today,” Phil says, “Or, if you’re busy sometime this week? I know our time together is limited and I really want to get all the basics out of the way, so we can get, well, deep.”

Dan stares at the tabletop, his cheeks heating up. Phil trucks on. 

“I’ve been reading interviews with people who co-wrote memoirs and they all really seemed to like seeing where their subjects live, so I thought you could come over tonight? I can order take out.”

Oh God, Dan thinks. This is it. It’s happening. 

“Phil,” he says, cutting of Phil’s one person business meeting. “I don’t...we need to talk about yesterday. I don’t want you to think that I’m…” 

He trails off. He doesn’t know what Phil might think of him. He can’t say he’s not a slut, because he is and there’s no shame in that. He can’t say that he’s not trying to take advantage of Phil, because he’s  _ not _ but he doesn’t want that thought to even enter Phil’s mind. 

“Dan,” Phil says. “I don’t think you’re anything. You’re my co-writer, and I caught you at a bad time. I was going to apologize for making you uncomfortable but for me? It's not that different than someone watching my videos. I’m just helping out. I’m not...I’m not going to penalize you for what your body does.”

Dan deflates a little. It’s...it's what he wanted to hear, forgiveness, or dismissal of any potential issues, but he suddenly feels bad in a different way.

He shakes his head and takes a breath.

“Ok, he says, “Thanks. Thank you. For clearing that up. What time did you want me to come over?”

Phil tells him a time and promises to text his address and hangs up. Dan drinks the last of his drink and looks back out of the window. Foot traffic is picking up as it gets closer to lunch hours. His phone buzzes with a new text message. He sighs.   
  


Phil’s flat is just outside of walking distance from his, in a slightly more expensive part of town. There’s a doorman and he has to sign in before he’s allowed to go up to the floor Phil lives on. It all makes him feel a little smaller, a little humbled to remember he’s working with someone who’s been successful for as long as Dan’s even had awareness of his own politics. 

But Phil, when he opens the door is just Phil. Dan’s only surprised by how quickly Phil’s become “just Phil” in his head, the niche fame surrounding him somehow dimming in the pleasure of actually knowing him. 

“Hi there,” Phil says, letting him in. The flat smells of cheese and tomato sauce and curiously not of any people at all. Dan isn’t fascinated with finding out Phil’s assignation, he’s maybe even dreading it a little on the other side of their moment yesterday, but he’d expected the apartment to smell like  _ someone _ when he walked in. 

But no, it's just an immaculately, impersonally decorated apartment that doesn’t smell of anyone in particular, alpha, beta or omega. 

“Sorry it's a mess,” Phil says, “You know, travelling.” 

Dan looks around for the mess and finds a few shirts thrown over the arm of a sofa and the shadow of what might be a suitcase peeking out of mostly closed door. 

The apartment is sleek and Phil clearly paid someone to decorate it. It’s also void of any personality. Dan’s not certain how Phil managed to find a decorator who could capture his aversion to answers or openness, but he did. Dan’s own apartment would probably look a little small and a touch rundown compared to this, but there’s no mistaking his home for a showroom floor. Or the site of many meticulously planned murders.

“It’s fine,” Dan says, following Phil to the kitchen. He passes a big, plush looking couch and has the shortest fantasy of Phil pushing him onto it and spreading his legs and pushing into his wet, ready hole. He hopes his scent doesn’t change. 

There are two pizzas on the granite island in the center of the kitchen and real plates. Phil tries to get them to move to the dining room table but Dan pretends not to notice, and starts pulling his things out. By the time he’s got both his computer and phone set up, Phil’s sat across the island from him, munching on a slice of pizza. 

“So,” Dan says, pulling his own slice from the box and tapping record on his phone. “I’ve realized that I don’t know anything about you.”

Phil laugh is bright and surprised. “Surely that’s not true. We’ve hung out so much!”

They’ve had two business dinners and several phone conversations. And a brief sexual tryst. None of which equal  _ knowing _ each other. 

“Tell me about yourself, where you were born? Do you have any siblings? Where’d you go to school? Is this even the direction you want to go in?” Dan bites into his pizza and watches Phil, who shrugs and looks a little uneasy.

“It is,” he says and fiddles with the crust of his slice of pizza. “I’m just….this isn’t what people usually want to talk to me about. I’m from up north, Rawtenstall. One brother, an omega. And yes, I want people to know me.  _ Me _ , not just my assignation.”

Dan looks down at his pizza, watching the red-orange grease travel along the groves of the melted cheese, so he doesn’t have to look at Phil. 

“Is that something you’ll want to talk about?” Dan asks,  “Your  assignation? Because it's...I know it's part of your whole brand, people not knowing.”

Phil makes a frustrated noise. “I don’t know? I mean, people will know anyway, it's part of the new talk I’m doing at universities. But I don’t know how it’ll go over. And I don’t know how to talk about it. That’s not...that’s not something my family ever taught me. They’re both alphas. My family likes to say that, that we’ve got omega genes, Lester blood only produces the best.”

Dan looks up at Phil, tilting his head. “But you said that your brother.”

Phil snorts, “You see how you assumed just then what “the best” means?”

Dan crosses his arms and stares at Phil, who stares back, steely-eyed. They stay like that for a moment, eyes locked, silent, before Phil rolls his eyes and splays his hands across the table. 

Dan looks at them, cataloging the neat, short nails and his long, long fingers. 

“I’m an Alpha,” Phil says, jettisons the words into the silence between them like he has to force them out. “My family likes to say we only create alphas, best of the best. You can imagine how that made  _ my _ particular branch of the Lester family feel.”

Dan sits quietly, still staring at Phil’s hands. His brain is yelling at him, he should be responding, but he’s just hearing Phil’s voice, over and over again,  _ I’m an Alpha _ . 

 

He’d tried, after Oliver. He’d tried to pick up alphas on one night stands, he’d even tried a long term relationship with an alpha, just to prove to himself that he could. He’d spent the whole of a handful of months looking over his shoulder, wondering if that particular alpha was working with the ones who’d doxxed him. Finally, that particular alpha broke up with him, and he’d taken it as a sign of his own maladjustment. He picked up alpha’s from time to time, but he didn’t try to date them, he didn’t become infatuated with them. He couldn’t. He couldn’t trust them. 

“I, um,” he laughed, nervously to himself and tried to tell himself his hands weren’t shaking. “I put together three sets of questions, four really, in case you decided you didn’t want to tell me.”

The first alpha he meets and actually  _ likes _ in years and he spreads his legs with little more than a hello. Christ.

“Well,” Phil says, reaching for another piece of pizza, “Let’s hear them then?”

“Sure,” Dan says, “Sure, but, where’s your bathroom?”

Phil tells him, looking a little concerned, and he follows the instructions to a small watercloset that features a slightly ridiculous mirror with lightbulbs all around the edge. It’s a half bathroom, just toilet and tiny sink and huge, decorated mirror. It's ridiculous and so at odds with the rest of the decor that Dan can’t help but huff a laugh as he stares at himself in the mirror. 

It’s like all those old movie star mirrors, the ones in black and white films where the actresses would powder their noses and trade barbs with each other. 

Dan pulls out his phone, dialing Anthony. He ends the call after one ring. Asking Anthony for advice would mean telling Anthony his whole story and that’s not a conversation he wants to whisper in Phil’s bathroom. Instead, he types in what he’s  _ pretty  _ sure is Harper’s number, cursing past Dan for deleting it for whatever petty reason he’d had, and texts  _ what if i have feelings for him and then he tells me he’s an alpha. I don’t know what to do with an alpha?? 911! _

He slides his phone back in his pocket and turns the faucet on, needlessly washing his hands.

“Okay,” he says, sitting down across from Phil and tugging his laptop out of his bag, “So the alpha questions.”

Phil shakes his head. “Not right now? Can we start with those basic ones? I’m not really ready for...that.”

Dan shrugs, amendable, and switches over to a blank document. “So, Rawtenstall, up north. Tell me more about your family?”

Phil, Dan learns,  _ loves _ his family. He visibly brightens when he talks about them, his brother and father, his mother and even his psychic grandmother. He tells Dan the good, stories about being wrapped up in love and warmth for the whole of his youth, the ways they supported his degrees and journeys into different kinds of media.

“They don’t  _ love _ what I do. What I did,” Phil says with a little frown, like he’d rather not be talking about his family in any negative light. “Well. Martyn thinks it's hilarious. But my parents. They’re glad I’m getting out. We argued about it a lot.”

Dan, deep into the fairytale of the Lester clan, has a hard time imagining them arguing about anything from the picture of a beatific family unit Phil’s painted. 

“So they know you’re retiring?” Dan asks, watching Phil nod. 

“They’re  _ thrilled _ ,” he says, “My mum especially. She made me a banner about it, d’you want to see?”

He gets up before Dan answers, so Dan gets up, curious about what a banner related to retiring from porn could possibly look like. 

He follows Phil further back into the apartment than he’d gone before, past the bathroom. He only realises they’re going to the bedroom when Phil opens the door and Dan, guileless, follows him. 

The bedroom is like walking into a different world. 

Dan’s heard of people having real, proper bowers--the kind that are supposed to be perfect for spending hours locked together, proper, traditional knotting--but he’d never thought he’d actually see one. 

But Phil’s bedroom is...it can only be described as a bower. There are tall plants on either side of the bedside tables and squat, full-leafed planters scattered throughout the room. The bed frame is made of dark, richly brown wood and the bed is huge, a king if not larger, and covered in a soft-looking, fluffed royal blue duvet. Pillows are absolutely spilling from the top of the bed and there’s even a nook to the side of the bed, just big enough for two people to sit intimately close together. The walls are stark white and unmarked and beneath the bed is thin, copper wiring, the kind that usually hosts string lights. This is a  _ bower _ , the kind of place where someone lays down with someone else and becomes their mate, not just a few nights fling. More than that, this is  _ Phil’s _ bower. He walks into the room like it's nothing, but Dan feels like he’s seen him more naked than ever before. The room smells like soil, and vetiver. Dan wonders if Phil himself ever smells the same.

“You’re an  _ alpha _ ,” Dan breathes, stepping in. He looks down and realizes that the floor has transitioned from hardwood to a pale rug that his feet absolutely sink into. 

“Yeah,” Phil says, looking up from where he’s rummaging through a desk. “I know it's a bit traditional, and the plants are a little weary looking, but it's the only room I decorated on my own.”

Dan barely bites back a groan. Of course this is the room that’s all Phil. 

Phil is looking at him, holding up a cute little cut out letter banner that says CLOTHED JOBS YAY, glittery and clearly homemade. He looks equally abashed and affectionate. Dan wants to kiss him. 

“It’s adorable,” he squeaks instead. “I need to go.”

He backs out of the room, babbling something about another appointment while Phil agrees, putting down the banner and following him back to his stuff. He’s quiet as Dan packs his things back up and when Dan looks at him, he looks concerned. 

“Okay,” Dan says, patting his pockets to make sure he has his wallet and phone. 

“Dan,” Phil sighs, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I didn’t just make things awkward, did I?”

Dan stares at him, then slowly, shakes his head.  _ He _ didn’t make things awkward. Dan made things awkward with his inability to keep from drooling all over Phil. 

“Ok,” Phil says, still looking unhappy. “I just...I was serious yesterday. I don’t thik you owe me anything, as a co-writer, or an omega. I just want to be friends, and write the best book possible.”

“Oh,” Dan says, fully realizing what Phil is saying. Shame sits heavy in the bottom of his stomach. He’s been throwing his feelings, and his scent, all around Phil’s apartment and creating the uncomfortable tension between them. “No, no.”

He reaches forward, arms out, asking for permission to hug Phil. Phil grants it, pulling Dan into a maddeningly appropriate hug. Dan doesn’t inhale once, just squeezes him, then lets go, stepping back. 

“You’re my coworker,” Dan echoes, “And my friend. And as my friend, as an alpha friend of an omega, you have to trust me to tell you when I’m uncomfortable.”

Phil nods, mouthing  _ ok _ and gestures to the door. Dan goes and gives him a last smile before the door closes between them. 

He gets all the way down to the street before he has to lean against a post and catch his breath.

He hasn’t had to have that particular conversation in years and forgot how much it takes out of him.

While he’s leaning against the lamppost, breathing and watching people pass on their way about their lives, his phone buzzes. He tugs it out of his pocket, opening the messages. 

_ Dan? _

_ Hey, I think you got the wrong number. _

Dan stares at the messages. 

_ Dan, it's Oliver. Let me know if you’re okay _ ?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I dont reply to every comment but I want you to know that I appreciate (and totally re-read) all of them, and I particularly love all the folks that regularly comment, y'all definitely keep me chugging along in this story.


	12. A Turn

The camera’s red indicator light blinks, staring back at Dan. It’s dark, too dark to see anything other than the outline of the lens of the camera and the rhythmic on and off of the light. There’s something holding him, wrapped around his waist, his neck, his hands and feet. Whenever he tries to pull away, a new tendril of whatever it is appears, trapping his legs together and his arms to his side. It’s dark and too warm and the lens of the camera grows and grows until it's grotesquely large, playing at being the moon shining down on him. The light changes everything around him, red, then black, then red again. There’s a sizzling noise, coming closer and closer, but he can’t smell anything. The camera turns into a screen and he can see Oliver, frowning and saying, “Dan? Text me? Dan? Dan?”

Dan wakes up. His face is wet and he’s tangled up in his sheets. The light filtering from his window is thin and grey. It’s raining, softly, and he has to get up in twenty minutes.

He closes his eyes and tries to remember what he was dreaming about, but it's gone, nothing left but the impression of a sliver of moonlight and a voice. He unwraps the sheets from his limbs and lays on his stomach, staring at the ceiling. 

Normally, this would be the time for his one unassisted wank of the day. He doesn’t always do it, but he savors mornings for the unhurried, unrecorded or tracked feelings. But it's been a week since he was at Phil’s and every time he tries, either Phil or Oliver pop into his head and both of them are too complicated to wank to.

If you’d told him a few months ago that he wouldn’t be able to get off because of alphas running through his mind, he would have either laughed or called you a regressive shit. But here he is.

So he stares at the ceiling, awake and unwanked, until his alarm goes off and he gets up.

He makes a simple breakfast--shreds of roast chicken, a few scrambled eggs, brussel sprouts from the night before and tea--and sits at his kitchen table. Phil’s due in a few hours for some reason he won’t elaborate on and he’s got reviews to finish--the Colvin vibrator that has setting to grow a knot and the Oh Honey cockring that might have been designed by someone who had never seen a cock before--but all he wants to do is sit here. 

His phone vibrates and his stomach clenches. 

And then there’s that. Oliver’s been texting him on and off since Dan accidentally texted him. Dan had given him a terse “I’m fine” that had somehow turned into a tense conversation about how they were doing, as if they hadn’t been estranged for twice as long as they’d known each other. Dan’s trying not to respond but Oliver is persistent and distressingly heartfelt in how sweet he still is.

It would be so much easier if Dan didn’t like it, but it’d be even better if it didn’t feel  _ nice _ . He’s found himself wandering down  _ what if _ daydreams. Would he still be a writer if he’d kept seeing Oliver? Would they be monogamous, married and building a stable of kids? Would he even know people like Phil at all?

Dan presses a knuckle to his temple, warding off the threatening headache. It doesn’t matter. Oliver is just a ghost, a spectre from a future that he doesn’t want now. He pushes away from the table and goes to the lounge to work, leaving his phone at the table.

He works until there’s a knock on his door, making him jump. He checks the time and curses, realising it's been hours. Well. If Phil can’t take him at his mussed working outfit--sweatpants that’ve been given a second life as cut off shorts and a top that might have originally intended a ladies nightshirt--then he hardly deserves Dan in his consummate professional outfit of something black and ripped jeans, probably. 

He does at least try and pat his hair into a respectable shape before he opens the door .

Phil’s there, shrugged up a little against the rain and he’s holding a pink box in one hand. 

“Hey,” Dan says, stepping aside so Phil can come in and leave the chilly, rainy air out.

“Hi,” Phil says brightly, “I got cupcakes from the bakery I mentioned?”

Phil had mentioned a bakery over one of their launches that set Dan off on a tangent about how hard it was to balance the sweetness of icing with the sweetness of cake that Phil had smiled and nodded about and then told him, serenely, that there was no such thing as too sweet when it came to baked goods. Dan had threatened him with homemade brownies with only the highest of cocoa percentages until he’d backed down, laughing, to admit that maybe  _ some _ things could be toned down a little. They’d agreed on the cupcakes that Phil is unboxing onto his kitchen table.

They’re gorgeous, high peaks of undyed buttercream icing sprinkled with golden dust, sat on top of pillowy cake. Dan’s mouth waters just looking at them. There are six, more than he could hope to eat by himself in a week while avoiding a stomach ache. But he grabs one of the chocolate ones and takes a big bite. He can’t help but moan when the center turns out to be oozing chocolate that’s just on the fruity side of bitter. 

“I guess I got the right flavors?” Phil asks, voice elevated a little over Dan’s groaning. 

“I’m having an orgasm,” Dan says, scraping his tongue over his soft palate to chase the smears of chocolate. He leans back against the kitchen counter. “Please give me a moment of privacy.”

“I thought those sounds were familiar,” Phil says, chuckling. He doesn’t seem to notice Dan freeze halfway through his second bite, so Dan just gathers himself and keeps eating. 

“I have real food,” Dan says when he’s chewed and swallowed, “If you’ve got a minute. I could put together a scramble or something.”

Phil shakes his head, still looking at Dan. “I just came by to drop those off.”

He steps closer and reaches up. Dan watches him and only stiffens a little when Phil cups his face, pressing his thumb to the corner of Dan’s mouth, wiping something away. Dan’s mouth opens, just a touch, and Phil’s look flickers down before he slips his thumb in, past the blunt ridges of Dan’s teeth, to press against Dan’s tongue. And Dan doesn’t really think about it, just takes it in and rubs his tongue against the wide pressure of Phil’s thumb and tastes chocolate. 

“Oh,” Phil says. His pupils are big and dark in the blue of his eyes and Dan can feel how warm he is even though they aren’t touching. He’s close enough that Dan ought to feel trapped but mostly he feels warm, too warm and a little finespun, like maybe he hadn’t woken up after all. 

They stand there, eyes wide, staring at each other, the entire flat silent but for the sound of falling rain. Phil slowly pulls his thumb away, and Dan barely stops himself from whining. He’s wet, slick between the legs like he’s never been touched before, but it feels like a second thought, not half as important as the way Phil flips his hand and presses his index and middle fingers to Dan’s bottom lip, waiting for permission. Dan reaches out to pull him closer by the hips as he opens his mouth wider, letting Phil fingerfuck his mouth. He closes his eyes and focuses on the feeling of fullness, the warmth of Phil’s other hand, pressed against his hip. Phil’s other fingers don’t taste like anything but skin, and they’re knobby and long. Dan sucks and slides his tongue between and around them and listens to Phil’s sharp inhale. He wants those fingers in him, wherever Phil wants to put them, he wants to feel them stretch him open and fuck him until he comes.

“Dan,” Phil murmurs, and then there is a gentle press of a mouth against his jaw. Dan moans, pulling Phil closer still til their bodies are flush together and he’s certain Phil can feel what he’s doing to him. He tucks a hand against Phil’s skull, asking him wordlessly, for more.

Phil acquiesces, and a soft mouth becomes gentle teeth, and when Dan moans a little louder, gentle teeth becomes small, sharp bites and sucking kisses. They stay there like that, Phil worrying the side of Dan’s neck, his fingers steadily sliding in and out of Dan’s hot, moaning mouth.

“Please,” Dan says, not sure what he’s asking for. He’s shaking and he’s certain the whole flat smells like sex. 

“ _ Fuck _ ,” Phil breathes against his neck. He pulls his fingers from Dan’s mouth and takes a step back. Dan isn’t proud of the way his body tries to follow, or how Phil has to extract himself from Dan’s arms. But it does and he does.

“I’ll…,” Phil says, sounding distracted. “I’ll see you this weekend, yeah? University of York? Marie’s driving, we’ll be around to pick you up.”

Dan nods, dazed and more than a little confused. His body is on alert, ready to be bent over the nearest surface, spread open and taken, but his alpha is leaving? He has all these rooms and a bed that Phil would make a bower and he’s  _ leaving _ ?

Phil nods and waves despite being a few inches away, straightening his raincoat and walking out of the kitchen. Dan hears the door unlock, open and close. 

He’s staring at the cupcake, trying to figure out what just happened when fuck just happened, when he realises that below the scent of sex and sugar there’s a faint, harsh scent that reminds him of tarmac in the summer. 

Phil’s scent. That’s Phil scent. Dan inhales deeply, chasing the scent, and feels another electric rush from his hole across his body. That’s what Phil  _ smells _ like.

He sinks down to the floor, pressing his thumb against his bottom lip, trying to remember the feeling of Phil’s fingers against his mouth. Phil was turned on. For  _ him _ . 

“What the fuck,” Dan whispers, staring at the floor.

He’d turned Phil on and now, this weekend, they have to spend three days together, with nothing between them but air, oppourtunity, and Phil’s manager.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a horrific realization as I was writing this; I've used the word "apartment" so many times in this fic. I dont think I need to tell you this fic is unbeta'd but I will tell you that I've no experience with writing memoirs, being British, or having this particular flavour of bisexual angst and I apologize profusely if you're ever knocked out of the fictional dream by me doing something wrong. 
> 
> On the other side of things--my god, when will these two just make up their minds?


	13. A Turn II

“So, one more time,” Anthony says, his wide, American-straight smile annoying Dan more than usual. “An alpha comes to your house with food, classic provider technique. Fucks your mouth--with his fingers, which is basically saying if you like this, there’s more. And then, when you’re ready to spread for him, he just leaves without any explanation?”

Dan stares down into his mug, not sure if he regrets calling Anthony over or his choice of tea over whiskey more. 

“Yes, Anthony,” Dan sighs, “That’s right. Just like the first three times we went over this.”

“Well,” Anthony says, leaning back, pleased grin spreading even wider somehow, “Welcome to the straight side. And I always thought it’d be me  converting to your side.”

Dan gives him an unimpressed look, not bothering to hide his irritation, says, “They couldn’t have found a better representative? Maybe one that’s actually straight?”

It's mean, meaner than he usually is to Anthony, knowing that he’s had a harder time coming to terms with himself than Dan ever did. But Dan’s agitated and confused and the last thing he needs is a celebrity omega who still gets to pass as straight laughing at him. 

Anthony’s quiet for long enough that Dan considers apologizing and then decides against it. The silence settles between them, stony and awkward and lasts long enough that Dan wonders if he’s going to be down a pet American before the day is over. He takes a sullen bite of his cupcake. They’re days old now and still delicious. He’s nearly extricated the flavors exploding across his tongue from the memory of Phil’s fingers pressing into his mouth. 

“So why can’t you just fuck him?” Anthony finally asks. Dan opts to take it as forgiveness for his sharp tongue earlier. 

“Because we’re co-workers?” Dan says, “Because I’m co-writing his memoir and the last thing I need is an awkward morning after to ruin the writing relationship? Because I don’t--”

Anthony waves a hand. “I got it, I got it. But, counterpoint, what if you did?”

Dan groans and tosses himself into Anthony’s lap, covering his face with his hands. He adjusts so he’s staring at the ceiling, his head resting on Anthony’s thighs and sighs. 

“You’re both adults!” Anthony says, waving his hands, “He clearly wants you, people sleep with their co-workers all the time. And you’ve got clearly got chemistry.”

“It’d be so good,” he says, totally aware he’s whining. “ _ God, Anthony, it’d be so hot. I can’t. I won’t. But I got his scent, just a little, and it was so hot.” _

__

Anthony laughs at him, petting Dan’s curls gently. “You could. With hands like that, I bet his knot is huge.”

Dan turns to press his face into Anthony’s tummy, moaning in anguish. He hadn’t even thought of Phil’s knot, hadn’t thought of  _ anyone’s _ knot with any real purpose in a long time. But now that Anthony’s said it, he knows he won’t be able to think of anything more than the heat at the core of him while being locked together, or, even better, the way the edges of his hole would clench around the knot, flushed and so sensitive to the touch that he can’t help but grind back onto it.

“Really?” Anthony asks, looking down on him, having obviously gotten the first traces of arousal in his scent. 

“God, shut up,” Dan says rolling off of him. “Go home, I need to pack.”

 

Dan wakes up early the next day and spends a full hour making breakfast and not looking at his phone. It's a four hour drive to the uni they’re visiting today and he figures he can do work on the journey. 

He’s gotten dressed and is chewing on the last of his toast when there’s a knock on his door. He sighs and gets up to open the door, pasting on a pleasant smile. Phil’s standing in the doorway, hands shoved into his pockets.

“Morning,” Dan says, giving him a little wave. “I could have come down.”

Phil shrugs, “You might have needed help with your luggage?”

Dan glances down at his single small suitcase, raising an eyebrow. “We’re going to be there for two days?”

Phil visibly pinks up and shrugs again, “I might have wanted a minute alone?”

Dan’s nerves thrill in his stomach and he takes a step back to let Phil in. Phil comes, closing the door behind him. 

“I, um,” He shakes his head, running a hand through his hair. “I wanted to apologize. The other day...that was really inappropriate of me. I don’t want to be another asshole alpha in your life who thinks he can take whatever he wants.”

_ Counterpoint _ , says the Anthony that lives in Dan’s head,  _ what if you did _ ?

Dan licks his bottom lip and drags his eyes from Phil’s feet to his face and says, “You don’t have anything to apologize for. Not with me.”

Phil looks at him surprised, so Dan decides to take advantage of his confusion, taking a step forward to crowd Phil up against the door. Phil’s just a touch shorter than him, but their mouths are still even and terribly, wonderfully close. If Phil doesn’t want to be the alpha that takes everything, then Dan doesn’t have to be the docile omega that gives him anything he wants. 

He presses forward, until Phil’s back is against the door and his own body is against Phil’s, and turns his head until his nose is snug against Phil’s neck, right where his hairline starts. Faintly, there’s the smell of warm streets. 

“Alphas don’t take things from me,” he murmurs and imagines he can feel the gooseflesh spreading across Phil’s body. It's a handy reminder of how he’s surrendered to Phil the last couple of times they’ve been in this position, and just how much ground he needs to recover. 

“They don’t?” Phil breathes. Dan can feel his fingers twitching at his sides, like he wants to grab Dan but isn’t sure it's allowed. 

“No,” Dan purrs, reaching up to cup Phil’s jaw and press his thumb to Phil’s bottom lip. “They only take what I give them.”

Phil inhales a shuddery breath and Dan brushes his mouth against Phil’s neck, whisper soft, before taking a step back and asking, “The car's downstairs?”

Phil nods and Dan grabs the handle of his suitcase, gesturing to the door. Phil doesn’t move for a moment and Dan wonders if they’re going to have to come up with an excuse for why Marie had to wait in the car for an hour while they fucked.

But Phil just shakes his head and peels himself off the door, heading out of the flat.

Finally, as they’re walking out down the steps to the car Phil says, “That’s um, that’s good to know. About the alphas in your life.”

Dan laughs to himself. Typical. “Sure, Phil. But there aren’t any ‘alphas in my life’ at the moment.”

He turns to open the boot of the car so he doesn’t have to see Phil’s reaction. 

 

When he slides into the backseat, he’s surprised to see two people sitting in the front and neither of them are the tiny businesslike woman Dan had only met once when signing the contract tied him to this project. 

 

“Oh,” Phil says, getting in the car on the other side. “I forgot. Marie couldn’t come and I’m not...the best at driving, so. Dan, this is my brother, Martyn and his girlfriend, Cornelia.”

“Hi there,” the woman says, turning around. She immediately reminds Dan of Clarissa. There’s something sharp about her, even as she smiles and awkwardly twists to extend a hand for Dan to shake. Phil’s brother simply looks at Dan through the rearview mirror and waves before pulling off. Huh. Ok then. 

 

The first hour of the drive is quiet. The radio is low and Dan tunes in and out of Martyn and Cornelia’s domestic chatter. Phil had already warned Dan about his wicked carsickness and was, maybe, sleeping. It was hard to tell with his face covered with both a sleepmask and a blanket. Dan had only teased him gently about being a delicate princess as they pulled into traffic. 

Now though, an hour later, Dan was bored with his own work and so switched over to the main document where he kept notes for their project. 

“Martyn,” Dan says, pushing past the awkwardness of penetrating the little domestic bubble that formed around the front half of the car. “What was Phil like as a child?”

Phil groans. So not asleep then. 

“You hush,” Dan says, “I’m working. Unlike some people taking hours long naps.”

“I’ve been awake this whole time,” Phil argues. 

Martyn clears his throat, getting Dan’s attention back, and says, “Annoying.”

Dan laughs and Phil makes some noise of protest but quiets down. It’s apparently all the permission Martyn needs to start regaling Dan with stories of Phil from their youth. 

“He was always trying to save some animal, has he told you about the hamsters? And then he got older and kept trying to save  _ me _ , typical fucking--”

Martyn cuts himself off and Dan looks up at him from his notes. There’s a pause that Dan doesn’t know what to do about, it's completely at odds with the way they’d been laughing at Martyn’s jokes a moment ago. Phil shuffles, pushing his sleepmask off. He leans forward to pat Martyn on the shoulder and says, “It’s fine. Dan knows.”

Martyn looks at Dan in the rearview mirror again and says, “Typical fucking alpha.”

There’s a bitterness there that would surprise Dan, if he wasn’t an omega himself. Instead, he nods and says, “I have some experience. Always thinking you can’t handle yourself.”

Martyn nods, looking back at the road. The view whips past them, road, cars and trees steadily passing by.

“He’s not though,” Cornelia says, reaching back to pat Phil’s knee. “I’ve known plenty of alphas and Phil’s the best of the lot by far.”

Dan glances over at Phil, who’s gone back behind his sleepmask. His mouth twitches up into a small smile and he reaches down to touch Cornelia’s hand. Dan doesn’t know Phil well enough to say if there’s any truth to that claim beyond familial obligation, but he finds himself wanting to know. 

 

It’s a long drive, but they take it in one shot. They’re all groaning and stretching as they tumblr out of the car at the hotel. It’s a lovely, if somewhat small, brick building, not far from the university. They attendant at the front desk smiles at them as they come lumbering in with all their bags. Martyn and Phil go to the front desk while Dan and Cornelia sit in the waiting area, looking around at the hotel. 

“So,” Dan says, smiling at Cornelia, “Do you mind if I ask you some questions for the project?”

Cornelia shakes her head, “I’m an open book. I do adore Phil though, so my answers might be a little biased.”

Dan shrugs, “That’s fine, it's a memoir, not an autobiography. What you said in the car…”

“About him being one of the best Alphas?” Cornelia asks. “I meant it. I’ve. The Lesters are lovely, Kathryn and Nigel especially. But Phil really loves Martyn, not in spite of his assignation, you know? He loves that about him, too.”

Dan nods, thinking of the bitterness with which Phil talks about the Lester stock producing alphas. 

“And he carries that with him everywhere,” Cornelia says, fiddling with the tip of the cushion she’s sitting on. “When he goes out...even in his work. It freaks Martyn out to talk about Phil’s job, and I don’t watch any of it, of course, it’d be too weird. But I really admire the way Phil really rejected the alpha stuff so early on.”

“I’ve tried to tell him,” Dan offers, “How big of a deal he was and is to us little queer omegas.”

Cornelia smiles, “And he never lets you? That sounds like Phil.”

“What sounds like me?” Phil asks as he and Martyn come over. 

Martyn, who’s frowning a bit, doesn’t wait for them to answer. “There’s been an issue with the hotel.”

Cornelia makes a concerned noise. 

“They didn’t get Dan’s room,” Phil explains, “Because we added it on later. And they’re full up for the week, there’s a conference happening nearby. But it's fine, we figured it out. I’ll just share with you two and Dan can take my room.”

Martyn nods and starts explaining that the hotel can bring up a roll out bed for Phil to sleep on. 

“Uh,” Dan says, “You don’t have to do that?”

Three sets of eyes look over at him and he fights a flush. He looks down at his phone instead of looking at Phil as he says, “Me and Phil. We can share. I don’t mind.”

“Oh, Dan,” Phil says, “I couldn’t impose on you like that, you’re already doing so much.”

Dan waves a hand, glancing up at him. “It’s a king sized bed, yeah? More than enough room for both of us. I swear I don’t snore.”

Martyn and Cornelia laugh. Phil watches him and when Dan raises an eyebrow, he finally nods. 

“Ok,” he says. “It's fine. It's only for two nights.”

Two nights. Dan can get through two nights with Phil.   
  


 

They all agree to meet back down for dinner in a few hours, after everyone’s gotten settled in and rested, and seperate off to their respective rooms. 

The room itself is opulent, if dated. All the wood is a rich, dark brown, the bed has a canopy with curtains that have been pushed back and the space itself is large enough to include a desk and a loveseat. As soon as they get in Phil makes noise about sleeping on the loveseat, until Dan pointedly looks between his long, long legs and the soft, but very short piece of furniture. Phil surrenders the point and goes to use the, blessedly thick-walled, bathroom. 

Dan opens his suitcase and curses. On top of all his clothes is the toy he  _ has _ to test out while they’re on this trip, to meet a deadline. Compressed by hours in a suitcase, it's a mildly horrifying lump of beige fleshy silicone. But when it expands back out it’ll be a masturbator, complete with torso that claims to be “good for any cock, for the smallest omega to the largest alpha knot”. It's part of his series on the weird negative obsession with omega cocks and the myth that there’s anything unusual or unnecessary about them. 

Dan finds it a little uncomfortable, the way it reduces a human body down to it's important parts by the manufacturer's standards, two holes, a short torso, and mounds of flesh that are just plump enough that you could take them for small breasts or well defined pecs. But it's here and he’d planned to test it out tonight. Shit.    
“Um,” Phil says from the doorway of the bathroom. Dan yelps and jumps, dropping the toy. It’s surprisingly solid, hitting the floor with a thud. 

“Hi,” Dan sighs, leaning over to grab it. He turns around, holding it in his arms. “I named it Vlad.”

Phil raises an eyebrow but he’s smiling. “Hello, Vlad.”

He reaches for it and Dan hands it to him, watching him poke it. 

“I would shake your hand,” Phil says, poking a nipple, “But you don’t seem to have any.”

“They’re probably thinking up a new version with hands,” Dan says, sitting on the bed. It’s firm, just the way he likes. He watches Phil try and work a finger into the front hole. They’re probably dry and powdery. Dan’s favorite lube is somewhere in his bag, waiting to slick the way. 

“Do you like it?” Phil asks, looking over at Dan, “In your professional opinion?”

Dan waves his hand in a more or less version. “This kind of masturbator tends to be hit or miss for me. I haven’t tested this one out yet. I was going to do it tonight but…”

He glances in the bathroom. From here, he can’t see a long countertop to rest it on. The bathtub is freestanding, with rounded edges. 

“Maybe not,” he says, looking back at Phil. “I’ll have to push that article back.”

Phil frowns. “Why?”

“Well,” Dan says, “I’d need to fuck it. And there’s nowhere in the bathroom to rest it, so.”

Phil comes closer to place it down on the bed. The bed is a perfect height, putting it even with his crotch. 

“Can’t you test it in here?” Phil asks. 

Dan’s certain he’s being deliberately obtuse. 

“Yes,” he agrees. “But you see Phil, you’re also sleeping here, and I don’t want to impose on you either.”

Phil looks over at him and asks, “Do you want to try it now?”

Dan doesn’t know what game they’re playing, but he feels like he’s several points behind. If they’re playing chicken though, Dan’s never been one to flinch. 

“Do you?” he asks, as if Phil wasn’t absentmindedly knocking his hips into the thing while waiting for Dan to answer. 

Phil doesn’t answer. Instead, he licks his lips and reaches to unbuckle his belt. 

“It needs lube,” Dan says staring at Phil’s long fingers working at the button on his jeans. 

“D’you have some?” Phil asks, as if Dan wasn’t halfway to his suitcase by the end of his sentence. He grabs the bottle comes back, trying to hand it to Phil. He’s shoved his pants down to his thighs but his underwear is still in place. 

“Does it need to be stretched?” Phil asks. “I’ve never used this kind before.”

Dan, who has used these kinds of masturbator before and knows full well that it doesn’t, squeezes lube onto two of his own fingers and pushes them into the hole. Phil groans, watching Dan finger the toy. Dan glances up at him when he feels like he’s teased Phil long enough. 

“Is that what you look like?” Phil asks, thumbs under his waistband, “Is that what you looked like that night on the call?”

Ah, so they’re abandoning the farce of professionalism. 

“No,” Dan says easily, pulling his fingers free. He doesn’t actually remember, but still  says , “I like it on my hands and knees.”

Phil hums, thoughtful, so he adds, “I like it when people grab my neck, press my into the pillow.”

I like it when they use me, he doesn’t say. I like to be nothing but a hole for them to use, he keeps to himself. If they’re doing this thing, that’s fine, but there are some things about him Phil hasn’t earned quite yet.

“That’s good to know,” Phil says, echoing himself from earlier. He pushes his underwear down and Dan’s mouth waters. There’s no mystery between them about what Phil’s cock looks like, even now when he’s half hard, foreskin not even pulled back all the way. But it still feels like a revelation to Dan, to see the thickness of it, the way it curves just a touch to the left, how pink the head gets as Phil strokes it a few times to get himself the rest of the way. It's a beautiful cock, Dan’s always thought so, and he’s desperate to know if it tastes as good as it looks. But they’re not there yet. It feels like a leap just to pull his fingers from the toy and grab Phil’s cock, blood hot and so smooth, to guide it to the slick hole of the toy. 

“It’s tight,” he sighs, pressing forward til he bottoms out. It’s an impressive toy, Phil’s more thick than he is long but Dan still wondered if he’d hit the bottom before he ran out of cock. 

Dan arranges himself so he’s resting on the bed on his knees, the toy between them, so he can watch Phil’s cock slide in and out of it. 

“Good?” Dan asks, looking up at Phil. 

“Really good,” Phil agrees, hips settling into a steady, quick rhythm. 

“I could go for longer,” Phil tells him, and Dan supposes it's not actually that strange that he can be so conversational while he’s fucking. 

“You could,” Dan agrees. “But?”

“But you smell so good,” Phil closes his eyes and Dan can see the shudder going through him. He can just barely smell the hot asphalt and something green scent coming off of Phil so it didn’t occur to him that Phil can probably smell the way Dan’s gone sopping between his thighs. 

“Do I?” Dan asks and tugs his jumper off. Phil’s eyes skip down to his neck, right where a mating bite might go then further, to his chest. 

“You do,” he agrees. “You smell like...like you’re dripping. Like you want it. D’you, Dan? Do you want to be this toy? Do you want my cock?”

Dan huffs a laugh and unbuttons and unzips his jeans so he can shove a hand in them, past his own cock to sink two fingers into himself. He fucks himself for a moment, til his fingers have certainly gone wrinkled with his wetness, then pulls them out. 

“Well,” he says, looking at his soaked fingers, spreading them so his wetness will spiderweb between them. “You tell me. Does it look like it?”

Phil leans forward, dipping his head to catch the fingers in his mouth. Dan’s breath catches and he drags his tongue around the digits, wet and broad and clever.

He tries to pull them out but Phil makes chase, hunching over so he can keep Dan’s fingers in his mouth as his thrusting speeds up and goes arrhythmic.

“I want your cock,” Dan tells him. “I want it, I want it in my mouth and my hole. I want you to fuck me through a heat, I want to lay in that beautiful bower and let you take me apart. You can’t take anything from me but I want you to give me that cock, I want you to  _ ruin _ me.”

Phil’s face  twists into an unfamiliar expression as he comes and Dan realizes he’s seeing what Phil’s real o-face looks like. His mouth falls open to release Dan’s fingers as he comes, jerking into the toy.  He slumps over, body carefully avoiding the toy as he lays down, forehead resting on Dan’s thigh. They stay like that for a moment, Dan listening to Phil breath and breathing in his scent while Phil calms down. It's nice but Dan finds himself shifting, nothing how close Phil’s head is to his own cock. 

Phil twists so he can look up at Dan and says, “Would you like a turn?” 

“What?” Dan asks, eyes snapping to the toy. Phil grabs it, turning so the hole is facing Dan. Phil hadn’t knotted it, but the used hole is still shiny, come leaking out of it. It’s dumb, it's so dumb, and dangerous, they’re not fluid bonded and Dan doesn’t even  _ know _ Phil, not really.

But his pants are already undone and Phil’s moving around him so that he’s sitting behind Dan and can grab a pillow to prop the thing up on. When Phil’s gotten things resettled, he comes up on his knees and shuffles closer, brushing his mouth between Dan’s shoulder blades and presses his hand low on Dan’s stomach, fingertips just touching Dan’s short shorn pubic hair. He stills there, the obvious question hanging between their bodies. 

Dan answers by tugging his jeans down, freeing his cock and letting Phil see the way he’s soaked the crotch of his pants. Phil curses quietly to himself, bypassing Dan’s cock to press his fingers flat across the edges of Dan’s hole. It’s an awkward reach, Dan’s legs trapped close by his jeans, Phil’s wrist twisted awkwardly to keep from penetrating Dan. 

“Please,” Dan breathes, lining his cock up with the wet hole of the toy. “Please, please.”

He’s distracted from the toy by Phil pressing one long, long finger into him. He squeezes, muscles tightening around the pressure and he rocks his hips back, wanting more. 

“More,” he says, “Two more. I can take it. You’ve made me wait this long.”

He can feel Phil’s laugh better than he can hear it, the quick rise and fall of his chest against Dan’s back. He adds two though, and the stretch stings sweetly. Dan thinks of Anthony fleetingly, speculating on the size of Phil’s knot, while he rolls his hips, fucking himself on Phil’s fingers. They’re knobby, and long and driving Dan crazy. He’s certain he could come just like this, with nothing but a slow, dirty grind of Phil’s fingers filling up the most sensitive part of him. 

That’s not Phil’s plan though. He lets Dan ride his hand for a few more moments before he pulls them out and nudges Dan’ forward with his own hips, til the tip of his cock breaches the toy.

"Fuck it," Phil says, his voice rich and deep, his tone firm. It's a clear command and Dan's not interested in disobeying.

He shoves his hips forward and groans, loud and obscene, as his cock fills the toy. It's wet and so slick, Phil’s come spilling out around his cock. He fucks it in short, tense thrusts, trying to hold on so that this isn’t such an embarrassing performance. All hope is lost when Phil gently presses him forward, so that he’s on his hands and knees, humping the toy and pillow and Phil fucks his fingers into Dan’s hole again, a counterpoint to the warm, sucking heat of the toy. Dan’s toes curl in his socks and he can feel the beginnings of tears in the corner of his eyes as he helplessly moves his hips, finding so much sensation it's almost too much. He manages another handful of thrusts, fingers curling in the sheets, legs spread as wide as they can go. When Phil pushes on his shoulders, he goes like a domino, shoves his own face into the duvet and comes with a series of embarrassing grunts, sound punched out of him as he comes. He doesn’t always come from both sets of genitalia, but there’s no question as he hole shudders around Phil’s fingers that he’s spilling into the toy, his come mixing with Phil’s. His mind is white noise, a refrain of  _ oh god oh god oh god _ . 

And Phil, consummate professional that he is, murmurs, “Could you go again?”

Dan, it turns out, can go again, and once more. The third time, a half hour later, he comes with a sob, tears of overstimulation clouding his vision. Phil fucks him through it, telling Dan what a good, sweet, precious one he is as he gentles him into an exhausted lull with the same methodical fucking in and out that turns Dan’s body inquisitive, curious if he can manage just one more. 

He can. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> General PSA: Shapes and Weights is going on a bit of a hiatus (two or three weeks) after next week. We'll be right back in action full time come late May/early June, but I'm going on blessed vacation from all the things, including writing.


	14. A Turn III

Dan’s drifting in and out of sleep when he feels Phil roll out of bed. He must fall back asleep again immediately because the next thing he hears is the bathroom door opening and when he opens his eyes Phil is walking out with a towel wrapped around his waist.

Dan yawns and sits up, rubbing his eyes. 

“You’ve got about twenty minutes before we have to go,” Phil says, moving around the bed to his suitcase. “If you want to shower or...take notes for your review?”

Dan laughs, crawling out of bed. “I’m still going to have to review it later. That wasn’t the ideal review scenario.”

Phil makes an interested noise. “Do you never have friends help you review things?”

Dan glances over his shoulder at Phil. Friends. That’s good at least. 

“Sometimes,” Dan tells him, walking into the bathroom. “But never quite so hands on as that.”

Phil doesn’t ask anymore questions, so he closes the door and gets in the shower. He stands under the water for a moment, letting the water wash over him and clear his thoughts. That was unexpected. 

He reaches between his legs, stepping his feet apart a bit to reach his hole. The skin is tender and just inside is sore, the spread of Phil’s fingers was good in the moment but is going to make it a little more difficult to sit in a talk in a few hours. Dan sighs and gathers water in his hand and starts cleaning himself up. He’s a mess, so much slick between his legs he feels like he’s spread open and dripping. It’s not unappealing and if he hadn’t come quite so many times he might consider trying to bring himself off before he finishes showering. 

But he’s satisfied, almost excessively so, and is just left with his thoughts. It shouldn’t be a big deal really. Sex is at the center of both of their jobs, there’s no reason to think that it can’t coexist with a functional professional relationship. And now that there isn’t so much curiosity, so much  _ tension _ maybe Dan can focus on gathering notes for the memoir and not what he can and can’t have from Phil. 

Dan soaps up and sighs. Maybe he just made a big deal out of something that didn’t have to be. At least, that’s what he’ll tell Anthony when he starts gloating when Dan inevitably tells him what happened. 

Dan finishes showering and dries off, coming out of the bathroom. 

Phil’s mostly dressed, just wandering around the room without socks or a shirt. He smiles at Dan and waves a little. 

“Good shower?” he asks, all careful politeness, as if Dan didn’t just have to wash off an hour of fucking. 

“Good,” Dan says and tugs his towel off his waist, folding it loosely before throwing it on the ottoman. Phil doesn’t look away and Dan doesn’t pretend he’s embarrassed. 

“I have a theory,” Dan says, rifling through his suitcase for underwear. “I don’t think you trust me very much.”

“What?” Phil says, sounding closer. Dan glances over his shoulder. Phil’s sat down on the bed, shirt resting in his lap. 

“It’s fine,” Dan says, trying to shrug and pull underwear on at the same time. “You’ve been keeping a secret for so many years, of course you don’t trust me. I want you to tell me all the things you’ve never told anyone, or only told your closest friends about the business and yourself and we don’t know each other not really.”

“...okay,” Phil says. Dan’s fairly sure he wants to argue, but he appreciates Phil humouring him. 

“So,” Dan says, continuing to get dressed. “I know that because I don’t trust people, except for my best friends. Obviously, I’m not writing a memoir, but I’ve had people write things about me and want to know things I’d rather not share.”

Phil’s nodding along, looking a little less skeptical. 

Dan shrugs into his shirt and says, “At the height of my Youtube career, when it was looking like it could really go somewhere, some assholes, I assume they were Alphas, found out my address and threatened to rape me.”

Phil reacts about like Dan expected him to. All the color drains out of his face and he clutches at his shirt, his knuckles gone white. It's the same reaction he’s gotten from the miniscule number of Alphas he’s ever told. From betas and omegas, he gets a range of things, anger on his behalf, horror, commiseration, and the occasional question of what he’d done to deserve that. Alphas though, it's always protective anger. In some ways, it's more unpleasant than any other reaction, the implication that they think they own him, that he’s something to possess and protect.

“Dan,” Phil breathes, “Dan, that’s awful. God, this is why I don’t. This is why I never wanted people to know I’m an alpha. I never want anyone to feel like I’m capable of doing something like  _ that _ .”

Dan raises an eyebrow. That was more quickly effective than he expected. He puts a pin in that idea, that Phil might be  _ ashamed _ of his assignation. It’s not a familiar thought, he’s never known an Alpha that wasn’t pleased with their place at the top of the pyramid. 

“It’s fine,” Dan sighs, turning back to his suitcase to find something to style his hair with. “Nothing happened, they never found me or anything.”

“Nothing  _ happened _ ,” Phil says, offended. “Dan, they destroyed your career! Who knows what Youtube could have turned you into, you could be so successful right now.”

Dan turns back around. It's unsettling, to hear Phil say the things he used to think about his own past and a future he was diverted from.

“I’m successful now,” he tells Phil, as firmly as he has to tell himself sometimes when he’s lost in a spiral of what-ifs. “And from what I’ve seen from other people...fame isn’t all it's cracked up to be.”

He meant Anthony, but he sees the way Phil flinches at his words. It’s fine. If it means Phil’s more honest with him, he can stand a little of Dan’s particular brand of acerbic directness.

“C’mon then,” Dan says, gesturing at Phil with his hair mousse. “I”ve told you my big secret, what’s yours?”

“I don’t--I mean,” Phil sputters, “I don’t have anything like that.”

Dan crosses his arms. “You spent years as a gender-bending porn star, disavowing your alphahood and no one threatened you?”

Phil shrugs a shoulder, “By the time I was big enough for people to care, someone else was reading all that stuff for me. I’m sorry that happened to you Dan, that’s awful and just burns me up. But I can’t say the same.”

Dan sighs, rolling his head around to loosen his neck. “Fine. What’s something you regret from your career?”

He could have formed it as a softball question,  _ what’s something you wish you did _ or even  _ what’s something you would have done if you kept making films _ , but he’s not feeling generous with Phil right now. 

All the color comes back to Phil’s face abruptly, his cheeks going pink. Dan looks at him, obviously interested.

“Um,” Phil says, finally tugging on his shirt and standing up. “I don’t want that in the book.” 

“Ok,” Dan says, watching him cross the room. “Fine. But now I  _ really _ want to know.”

“I can tell you,” Phil says. “I just don’t want the world to know? Um. Knot someone.”

Dan feels both eyebrows go up. “You’ve never knotted anyone?”

Phil rolls his eyes. “Yes. I’ve knotted people before. Not a lot. But yes.”

Dan makes a  _ go on _ gestures. 

“Just, on camera. I’ve never done it on camera and it's...an interesting thought.”

Phil’s looking down at his shoes, surprisingly abashed for a man that Dan’s seen suck cock with what can only be described as  _ gusto _ . 

“An interesting thought,” Dan repeats, not bothering to pretend he’s not amused.

“It’s the only thing I couldn’t do,” Phil grouses. “Cloaca can be faked with camera angles and things but a knot.”

“Can’t fake one of those,” Dan concedes, though he’s not certain either is properly true. “You want to see someone squirm on your knot, Phil?”

He knows he’s flirting and judging from the look on Phil’s face, he’s about to flirt back. But there’s a knock on the door before he can say anything else. 

“Time to go,” Dan says for him, leaning down to grab his shoes. “Your audience awaits.”

Phil nods, opening the door to let Martyn in, like an idiot. The room reeks of sex, Dan can’t smell his own scent but he can smell the sharp scent of slick and come and lube emanating from the bed of rumbled sheets and duvet. Martyn’s eyes find Dan immediately, who looks back, unapologetic and a little defiant, before finding Phil. 

“That didn’t take long,” Martyn says, rolling his eyes. 

Phil shrugs and smiles first at Martyn and then, a little sneakily, over at Dan. 

“Keep it in your pants,” Martyn sighs, “Are you both ready to go?”

He leaves, obviously not waiting for an answer and Phil shrugs before following him. 

Dan brings up the rear, making sure he has his key before he lets the door close behind them. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter to come today and then I'm on hiatus for the next 3 weeks!


	15. A Turn IV

The university isn’t a far drive away and they take it in silence. Martyn and Cornelia are talking again by the time they make their way to the small lecture room where Phil’s supposed to be and judging by the looks Cornelia keeps sneaking Dan’s way, he can guess what they’re talking about. The three of them sit in the back while Phil goes up to talk to a girl standing at the front who’s nearly vibrating from excitement. The room is just big enough that Dan can’t exactly hear what they’re saying, but he recognizes the awe-struck look she’s giving Phil, even as Phil ducks his head and says something probably self-effacing. 

The room fills up at a swift pace, mostly with students but probably some professors as well, judging from the mildly bewildered look they give when the girl introduces Phil as “a gender and genre bending artist, for whom the title “porn star” isn’t nearly broad enough to honor his work”. 

The Phil that steps up to the podium isn’t a Phil Dan has met before. He’s beginning to understand that Phil’s really good at putting on whatever face someone needs him to wear, all while being unerringly polite. This particular Phil is so, so charming and almost naive in the way he continues to push back against the idea that he’s done anything significant. 

Dan watches Phil trace out a careful sketch of himself as a younger man, disenchanted with school and the boring jobs he’d taken on in the wake of his graduation. This is the stuff of Wikipedia articles, facts Dan already knows about Phil’s beginnings as a video editor and the way he’d built up the courage to audition for a place on the other side of a computer program. But hearing Phil tell is infuses it with new light, the way he’d found the whole process fascinating, had wondered what it felt like to be on the other side, placing your body and trust in the hands of so many people around you, with no guarantee that your work would get picked up. 

Of course, Phil’s got picked up. Dan doesn’t often stop and think about the ways Phil is one of the lucky ones, how he’s managed to carve a career out of a hostile field that probably demanded the alphahood he regularly refused.

Dan scribbles some thoughts about that in his notebook but mostly tunes in to hear Phil talk about his career and his dedication to androgyny as a way to undermine people’s gross perceptions of all the assignations. 

He talks for half an hour and then the excited girl from earlier opens up the floor for questions. Dan’s not surprised to see hands shoot up. If someone like Phil had come to speak at his uni, he and his crop of friends would be falling over each other to be the first to ask him a question. 

“Hi, Mr. Oxin errr, Mr. Lester, I suppose,” says a floppy-haired boy who’s wearing the tightest jeans Dan’s ever seen in his life. “My first question is, respectfully, do you feel like keeping your assignation a secret is really helpful anymore? I mean, when you started performing, the world was really different, omega rights were just starting really become talked about and alpha behavior wasn’t really questioned but...we’re a long way from that now. Why do you still keep it a secret? Don’t you think it sort of...seems like you’re ashamed?”

The room fills with murmuring immediately, half of it Martyn muttering quietly but angrily to Cornelia, who’s soothing him with a little amused half-smile. Dan’s watching Phil like a hawk. This is the first time he’s seen someone give Phil a chance to take a stand, to maybe be a little rude to this kid who’s tramping all over his legacy just because “times have changed”.

Phil, though. 

Phil kind of smiles to himself and shakes his head. “Well, no. I’ve never really thought about it in that particular way. You’re right, times have changed, if I was still filming today, it’d be in a really different context. But, to be honest, I  _ am _ pretty ashamed of assignation.”

Dan narrows his eyes, fingers curling around the edges of his notebook. 

Phil looks at each of them, and there’s something defiant about the way he smiles, even as he says, “I’ve been told since I was born that everything I want is mine to take.”

The murmuring settles into stunned silence. 

Phil goes on, “My parents raised me traditionally. They encouraged me to create play bowers when I was a child, for the nice omega I’d take home some day. They taught me about the Lester stock and how strong it was for producing so many alphas. As if it wasn’t strong for producing omegas as well, like my brother, Martyn.”

Phil shakes his head and looks straight back at Martyn. “I’m ashamed to be an alpha because of the things I was taught, and the ways I believed them for so long and I never wanted anyone to see me as a threat, or someone to be wary of.”

His eyes slide over to Dan. “I’ve known some amazing omegas in my life and I wanted them to see me as a person first, and never a threat.”

Dan sits back, realizes he’s been holding his breath since Phil started answering, and closes his notebook. The students are clamoring to be called on now and Phil’s assignation has likely been spilled onto social media already.

Well. That’s certainly one way to drum up interest in the book. 

 

Phil’s agreed to have dinner with the students after the talk so he parts ways with them as they leave. Dan rides back to the hotel in companionable silence with Martyn and Cornelia, trying to figure out if they should call Marie about capturing the energy of Phil’s revelation or if it's even his place to think about things like that. 

 

“He’s such an idiot,” Martyn sighs as they climb out of the car and walk into the lobby of the hotel. “You don’t get wrapped up in his crusade to be a perfect alpha, ok?”

Dan looks at Martyn in surprise. He’d honestly gotten the vibe that Martyn didn’t really like him, but the warning was surprisingly tender. Probably just run-off from his clear affection for Phil, nothing more.

“I think...it might be my job to get wrapped up in it right now?” Dan says, holding his hands up, palms open, the universal sign for I don’t know.

Martyn rolls his eyes but still waves in that familiar Lester manner as he and Cornelia go off to their room. 

Dan makes his way back to his own hotel room and sets about testing the masturbator, undisturbed this time, and takes another shower. He’s deep in a draft when he hears the door unlock. Phil looks tired when he comes through the door, and a little surprised to see Dan sitting in the middle of the bed they’re sharing. 

“Hi,” Dan says, closing his computer. 

“I think I’m old,” Phil says, flopping face first into the bed. “It's barely 9 and I’m exhausted. I also wasn’t so...passionate when I was in school. Were you passionate?”

Dan takes a moment to translate what Phil’s just said into the bed and nods. “Yes. However annoyingly passionate they were, I was worse. What’d they say?”

Phil flips over onto his back, resting his head against Dan’s thigh. “They asked about the moral ramifications of hiding my assignation as a member of the privileged class, an exact quote. They asked if I was dating anyone, and how they felt about me doing porn. One of them asked if I felt that I’d experienced oppression since I effectively stripped myself of the societal deification of being an alpha, another exact quote. Only one of them asked how I kept my knot hidden, which probably means good things about sex ed these days, yeah?”

Dan reaches out to pat Phil on the shoulder. “Probably. No one told me a damn thing about how knots worked, other than the whole locking thing, until after college. Not even the alphas I fucked.”

Phil sighs and rubs his face. “Please don’t talk about fucking alphas. I know it's shitty, but. It makes me. Please.”

Dan raises an eyebrow and, because he’s never had an inch he can’t turn into a mile, slips his fingers into Phil’s hair, scratching lightly at his scalp. It’s been ages since his omega courses, where he’d, theoretically, learned the ways to entice your alpha into mating. The memory about grooming is a fuzzy one, so this is a short in the dark. It must hit a target though because Phil groans and presses against Dan’s finger. 

He asks, careful to keep his tone light, “It makes you what, Phil?”

Phil sighs, “It makes me jealous. Which is awful and unattractive. I don’t own you. A person can’t be owned, and we didn’t even know each other then and you could go out and fuck a million alphas tonight and it wouldn’t be my business.”

It’s the kind of thing Dan would never even fantasize about hearing from another alpha. He’s not really sure what to say about it at all. 

“Well,” Dan says and pauses because he’s not really sure what’s on the other side of that sentence. 

It doesn’t matter, because his phone’s buzzing beneath his leg, against Phil’s face. He grabs it to hit reject and curses when he accidentally answers the call. 

He sighs, “Hi, Oliver.”

“Dan,” Oliver starts talking. “I’m sorry. I know, I know we aren’t talking anymore, not really, but what you said worried me a lot, and I just want to know that you’re really okay.”

It's surreal, to have Oliver in his ear while he’s nearly cuddling with Phil in his bed. It’s too late at night and he just wants to fall into the ill-advised fantasy of this bed and this man. And here Oliver is, the reality check he doesn’t want but probably needs. 

“I can’t talk right now, Oliver,” Dan murmurs, watching as Phil rolls out of bed and starts stripping out of his clothes right there. Phil glances at him once and Dan nods, letting his gaze track across Phil’s body.

“Dan? Are you ok? Be honest with me,” Oliver says and Dan feels bad, for stirring this up in him, and for how much he wants this conversation to end. 

“Oliver,” he sighs, “There’s a very attractive alpha taking his clothes off in front of me and I’d really like to enjoy that, if it's alright with you.”

“Oh…,” Oliver says, and Dan hates that he knows, after so many years, that that tone means that Oliver is hurt. 

Oliver hangs up without saying goodbye and Dan knows that later he’s in a race against time to smooth that over before Harper and Soph are calling him angrily.

“Don’t ask,” Dan says when Phil opens his mouth, looking like he’s about to ask who, exactly that was. “Don’t ask unless you want to talk about how you don’t actually have any claim on me. And come here.”

Phil’s mouth shuts with a click and he does as Dan says, crawling over to cover Dan’s body with his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it for now folks! I'll start updating again Friday, May 25th. I considered ending on a cliff hanger, but y'all don't deserve that. I'll still be around over at queerofcups.tumblr.com if you've got questions or just wanna say hi!


	16. Chapter 16

Its an update! But not the one you want. 

So I'm putting this fic on hiatus. The posting schedule I set up was never something I loved, but as my life has gotten busier, its become untenable. And, frankly, its not really conducive for a good fic. I really like this universe and I don't want to rush through it for the sake of getting something posted.  Updates will still happen, I just can't guarantee any regularity. In some ways, this is good because it means when I  _do_ post chapters they'll be longer and generally better. 

So that's the update. 

I definitely would encourage folks to subscribe so you know when I update and if you're into my fic, I'll definitely keep posting things, they just likely won't be WIPs, hah. If you've got questions, or want to know where I am in the writing process, you're welcome to follow me at queerofcups.tumblr.com. Otherwise, I'll see ya whenever the next chapter comes!

And, finally,  _thank you_ so much for all of your kind words. I definitely would have given up on this fic, or at least stopped posting regularly, if it weren't for all of you being absolutely wonderful to me and I hope you'll stick around. 

<3


	17. Inclination I

When they finally arrive at Dan’s flat, Phil leans forward to say something to Martyn as Dan’s climbing out. Dan’s tugged his suitcase out of the car and he manages not to show his surprise on his face when Phil comes around to close the boot and then doesn’t seem to surprised when Martyn sticks his head out long enough to make dry, unimpressed goodbyes before pulling away. Cornelia waves a bandana in the wind, her own kind of farewell. 

Dan watches them go until he can’t see the car anymore and turns to look at Phil. 

“We should probably talk,” Phil says, grimacing at his own words. 

“Yikes,” Dan says, but makes a motion for Phil to follow as he takes off toward the flat’s entrance, suitcase rumbling behind him. 

The air between them is charged with many things. 

The night before they’d used the Vlad again. That morning Dan had woken up to an empty bed, a note from Phil explaining that he’d been obligated to drop in on a class but didn’t want to disturb Dan. When he’d returned, this awkward silence came with him and settled between them like a boulder, hard to move, hard to ignore.

Dan lets them into his flat and leaves his suitcase to be tripped over later. He moves around the apartment like Phil isn’t there, opening curtains, looking in his mostly empty fridge. He doesn’t know how to do this part, because he hasn’t made a habit of letting people return to his place over and over again. When he finally can’t find anything else to do, he sighs and finds Phil on the couch and joins him.

“So I talked to Martyn,” Phil says, turning his body to look at Dan. He doesn’t smell of anything.

“I’m sure that conversation went well,” Dan says. He tries to keep his voice neutral but knows that he’s failed by the look that flits across Phil’s face. He knows he shouldn’t, but there’s something about Martyn’s stoney judgement that rubs him the wrong way and, illogically, makes him think of the omegas he’s met that think he’s a little  _ too _ free with his body and the things, and people, he puts in it. It’s not a fair assumption, to think that the sibling of a pornstar would feel that way, but Dan can’t help the reaction he’s having. 

“He says he thinks this is inappropriate,” Phil’s messing with a loose thread in the throw tossed across the back of the couch. This might be the first time Dan’s seen him uncomfortable. It’s easier to focus on that than the heavy, cold fluttering in his stomach.

“And what do you think?” Dan asks, trying to ignore the way his palms feel clammy. He doesn’t even  _ disagree _ with Martyn, this is inappropriate. But hearing the words from an older omega in a committed relationship still feels like a tut tut, a reminder that he ought to keep his legs closed.

“I think…,” Phil trails off and just sort of looks at Dan for a moment. “I think I like you, Dan.”

The claminess twists into something else, a silvery, cool feeling. Phil raises an eyebrow. 

“I like you,” he continues, “I think I like you too much? I think I want--I want you. But we can’t, because I don’t want people to say this book is biased.”

It doesn’t really make sense, people write biased books all the time and anyway, he’s a glorified ghostwriter, they both know that Phil’s name is the one that’s going to go on the front of the book in the largest font. 

But that part doesn’t matter. What matters is Phil saying that he wants him and the way his hand has found its way onto Dan’s knee. His fingers are long and warm and Dan suspects he could remember every knob and notch of them from the times last night when they’d gone pruney with his slick.

“Ok,” Dan says, nodding, licking his bottom lip. “So you want me, maybe too much, and you’re afraid that’s going to make the book biased.”

Phil shakes his head, a little smile twisting his mouth. “I want this to work. The book. And I want this,” he gestures between their bodies, “To work, whatever it is. But can we do both at the same time?”

Dan shakes his head, “I don’t see why the hell not. Sex doesn’t have to be...this big deal, this thing that changes the way I see you. Fucking doesn’t mean I can’t write a book, Phil. Contrary to popular belief, the hole doesn’t preclude any of my faculties.”

Dan’s never been laughed at so much as Phil has laughed at him. When he gets prickly, people have called him a bitch, or a cunt, or reverted to  _ hole _ , the old classic, guaranteed to put him in his place. So they think, anyway.

But Phil huffs a laugh, a goofy, half exhalation and says, “It’s not you I’m worried about.”

Dan, who’s always ready to respond, closes his mouth.

“I want to be honest,” Phil looks him in the eye, long fingers squeezing Dan’s knee a little, “And I can’t be honest if I’m trying to woo you. Right now, Dan, I can’t  _ think _ .”

Dan laughs, and it sounds a little hysterical even to him. The thought of Phil, this man who’s had so many other people and  _ could _ have so many more, giving two shits about being around an omega whose made his career out of being decidedly not the wooing type. But Phil still smiles at him with that damn, blinding smile.

“I’ve never been wooed in my life,” Dan tells him, “I’m pretty sure that’s not actually a thing, outside of those shitty romance novels people try and make omegas read.”

Phil leans in, and Dan thinks maybe he’s about to kiss him, except Phil just says, in a low voice that sends a shiver through Dan, “I used to steal my aunt’s romance novels. I’m actually an expert in wooing, it turns out.”

“...oh,” Dan says, and feels his cheeks warm up. There are tendrils of that plant and metal smell again. 

“Stop that,” Phil says and leans away, “I’m going to woo you. In the old way. The really old way.”

Dan makes a face, “Please don’t involve my parents in this in any way.”

Phil makes a matching face, “Older than that. Before all the rules about asking parents for mating permission.”

Dan doesn’t know anything about old ways before that, but as long as no one other than him is being asked for permission to his body,  he’s content with waiting to find out just what Phil means. 

“So… does wooing mean no sex?” Dan clarifies.    
“No sex,” Phil confirms, nodding. “Not while we’re working on the book.”

“Phil,” Dan whines, “That could be  _ months _ , people work on books for  _ years _ . And we’ve already fucked!”

Phil rolls his eyes, “We haven’t. And fine. Not while we’re interviewing. After you know everything, the good, the bad, the awkward. Then you can decide if you want me back.”

Dan, or at least the version of himself that isn’t just fighting the urge to sniff out more of Phil’s scent, has to admit that it's a decent plan. He’s never done...this. He’s had Oliver and he’s had flings that have lasted longer than others, but when Phil says  _ I want you _ , it feels like he means something bigger, maybe for keeps. And it's comforting, the thought of seeing the unpleasant parts, of getting to ask and know all of it  _ before _ he commits to anything. 

“No sex,” Dan agrees, nodding. He sees the moment that Phil relaxes and takes it, leaning forward and swinging his leg across Phil’s lap. Dan looks down at him, the surprise and amusement, feels his hands settle on Dan’s hips. 

“No sex,” Phil confirms and tilts his face up for the kiss Dan drops on his mouth. Phil’s mouth is warm, and soft, his lips smooth. Dan kisses him once and one more time before his mouth relaxes open and Dan can lick into it. Phil groans into his mouth and leans back into the couch, his hands finding Dan’s ass. 

They kiss for long, quiet moments, no sound in the apartment but their mouths moving together. It reminds Dan of the early days of his college career, when he’d go to a party the DO was having. He could go into a dark basement and find a body that felt and smelled nice and just make out aimlessly, knowing that things could go wherever he wanted, or nowhere at all.

When Dan can smell it properly, the quickly growing familiar smell of uncut grass and stand still traffic, he backs away, not so careful that he doesn’t rub against Phil’s crotch, just a friendly reminder.

“No sex,” he echoes cheerfully, “Now get out of my house, I need to write a draft to send to my co-writer.”

Phil groans, “Your co-writer is indisposed right now. Someone was really mean to him and now he can’t stand up.”

“You haven’t seen mean yet,” Dan says, laughing and backing up when Phil reaches for him.   
Phil gives a little chase, running Dan around the coffee table twice before stubbing his toe and going down in a flail of limbs. Dan, who is apparently capable of  _ flirting _ , sits awkwardly on top of him, and Phil lets him. 

“So,” Dan says, tries for cool and probably comes off a little scared, “When you say you plan to woo me…?”

Phil nods. “Dates, I guess. Or we could hang out to start? I just...I don’t want this to be all about sex. I feel like my whole life has been about sex for the last few years and I don’t want this to be.”

Dan bites his bottom lip. This feels unearned. He’s been a slag for too many years to not know what people expect slags to get. And it's not Phil. It’s not wooing. 

“That’s really antithetical,” Dan tells him, like he’s not settling in for a good long sit and a bit of a horizontal flirt. “People who are wooing other people are, by nature, trying to impress them.”

Phil rolls his eyes. Dan’s finding he likes that. There are too many people in the world who take his bullshit too seriously, he likes that Phil doesn’t. 

“Fine,” Phil says, “If you want to be boring about it. I’m trying to get to know you. You have to get to know me, But I don’t want this to be all about me.”

Dan ducks his head and smiles. “So you want to date me. But not fuck me.”

Phil makes a more or less motion with a hand before letting it settle on Dan’s jean-clad thigh with a  _ thwap _ . “I want to fuck you. But it would make you really distracting. And you’re technically working for me.”

Dan shrugs. 

Phil sighs, clearly annoyed and Dan would try to slip off him, except Phil’s still got a firm hand on his thigh. 

“Everything doesn’t have to make sense, Dan,” Phil says. Dan’s choosing to believe he’s a little cross with himself and not Dan.

“That’s dumb,” Dan tells him. “Things should make sense.”

“Your mum should make sense,” Phil tells him.    
Dan’s snort clearly takes them both by surprise and he tries to apologize through his laughter. Phil must not hear though, because he’s still just smiling up at Dan, watching him laugh. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi


	18. Inclination II

Dan doesn’t see Phil for a few days after their conversation, which is likely for the best. He’d let his readers know that he was working on a big project and wouldn’t be able to mantain is usual four to six posts a month, but he’d gotten farther behind in his back log of reviews to write than he was really comfortable with. 

The first day he’d gotten back from the college visit with the Lesters, he’d spent in an editing cave, only leaving bed for the bathroom or the kitchen. He’d spent half the second day doing the same, then used the other half the clean his apartment and reorganize his toybox, pulling his favorites to the top. 

He and Phil haven’t really set any boundaries about monogamy yet, but Dan knows Alphas and he suspects that even Phil, oddly perfect though he may be, won’t be thrilled with the thought of Dan fucking around while he’s being  _ wooed _ . 

The third morning he’d woken up to a text from his mum, letting him know that she and his dad would be in town that day and asking if he wanted to grab lunch.

_ Oh fun _ , Phil texts him when Dan texts him about it. Though they hadn’t technically spoken to each other, they’d blown past the awkwardness of the first texts of dating. Dan woke up to a text from Phil and went to sleep smiling with his phone in hand and Phil’s goodnight on his screen. 

Dan looked at the last text, weighing his options. Phil hadn’t asked him any really deep questions about himself, but, to be fair, Dan didn’t ask any either. They’d agreed to keep all work questions to email and when they met face to face specifically for work purposes. Dan wasn’t great at those sorts of separations and found himself texting Phil questions and considerations for the book, but Phil unerringly responded with a reminder that that’s what email was for. 

It was irritating as shit, but Dan appreciated it. 

Except moments like this, when he’s left wondering if Phil’s ready for his tragic backstory, including unsupportive parents. 

He sighs and stretches, rolling himself out of his bed. He looks back at the mess of sheets and pillows and thinks about how much he’d rather broach this conversation in that dark, richly colored bower of Phil’s, smelling of cut grass, steal and sweat.

_ not sure thats the word, mate _ , Dan sends back. Phil’s text bubble pops up and disappears a few times. 

Dan types more, to spare him,  _ we dont always get on. theyre traditinal. _

_ Traditional? _

Dan sighs. Tragic backstory it is, then. 

_ the only conversation we’ve ever had about my sexuality was years and years ago and didn’t go...well. They pretend they don’t know exactly what I do. every time I go to their place for any holiday, my dad wants to know if I’ve found a good alpha yet. _

Dan braces himself. Because Phil is great and seemingly queer himself but Phil is still an Alpha. Dan’s been a bad omega longer than he’s been queer, so he doesn’t know where the queer starts and the alpha ends. But if Phil thinks that Dan doing...whatever they’re doing with him is the key to soothing Dan’s familial drama then...well then that’s the only sign Dan needs that Phil might be perfect, but he isn’t perfect for Dan. 

There’s a silence, and it's a long one. It’s so long that Dan throws his phone back on the bed and and goes to shower, trying to wash away the flip of his stomach with hot water. 

When he returns to his bed, Phil’s messaged him. 

_ Well _ .  _ I don’t know if I’m nice.  _

_ But you can tell them you met an Alpha. One who thinks you’re wonderful, just as wonderful as every other Omega he’s met, the ones interested in being a homemaker with a single Alpha, the ones who build families with other Omegas and the ones who don’t want a family, or a partner at all.  _

_ Tbh, I’d pick spending time with an Omega couple over nearly anyone.  _

Dan bites his lip to keep from smiling. It’s not a perfect response, it's clumsy and Dan can tell the messages were sent a few minutes apart. But it wasn’t awful either and there’s something endearing about seeing Phil a little less smooth and put together. 

_ ’ll tell them that _ , Dan says,  _ but theyre probbly just going to swoon over the fact that youre an Alpha. Maybe ill mention yr a pornstar too, just to cut them off at the knees _

Phil sends him back a series of increasingly distressed looking emojis. Dan sends him a photo back, a simple selfie, Dan laughing. 

Less than an hour later, he’s reaching for some of that happiness. His parents sit across from him, having updated him on all the gossip from town, all of his cousin’s whereabouts and hijinks and now they’re looking at him, encouraging. He doesn’t know why they insist on doing this, as if every conversational road doesn’t lead back to the same place.

 

 

“Cat’s good,” Dan says, taking a bite of his salad. “She keeps saying she’s going to come visit, but she hasn’t made it out yet. Anthony’s still kicking around.  _ He _ keeps saying he’s going back to America soon, but I don’t think even he believes it anymore. Harper and Sophia, my friends from uni? I got in touch with them recently, they’re expecting.”

Dan’s mum nods but his Dad asks, “Oh? Both of them? That must be fun, their Alpha’s must be relieved that they have each other to lean on.”

Dan takes a little too long chewing on a mouthful of kale and apple before he says, “No Alpha’s. Just Soph is expecting. They’re together. They got married a little after we graduated.”

Dad makes a faint listening noise, then asks, “Whatever happened to that nice boy you knew, Oliver?”

Funny thing, Dan wants to say, if you’d asked me a month ago I’d tell you the same answer I’d tell you for literal years now, that I haven’t seen hide or hair of him. And yet, he’s been abruptly reintroduced and then jettisoned over my life recently, all over a completely  _ different _ Alpha. 

Instead, Dan says, “No idea. You know how uni is, you make friends, some stick, some don’t.”

“Of course, dear,” his mum says, “That makes sense. It’s a shame though, we did like Oliver.”

“We did,” his dad sighs, “Well. Anyone new in your life? A young professional omega like you, Alphas should be knocking down your door.”

“Honey,” Dan’s mum says, resting a hand on his shoulder. “Dan will tell us if there’s something we need to know.”

And Dan could take the opening. That could be the end of their regular conversation about how Dan’s failing as an omega because he’s failing to catch an alpha. 

But he’s just...he’s tired and Phil’s not a secret, he’s just not the person Dan imagined telling his parents about. 

“I’m, um,” he pushes a small chunk of apple around his plate. “I’m dating someone, maybe.”

“Oh?” his dad asks. “Dating someone? Maybe?”  
  
He’s trying to play it cool but he’s watching Dan closely. There’s a little smile playing at the corner of his mouth and it just makes Dan sad. Because he’s going to tell his parents about Phil and his dad is going to be loudly ecstatic and his mum’s going to be quietly relieved and they’re going to be the exact same people they were a moment ago, when they couldn’t even conceive of two omegas expecting a baby together. 

He doesn’t know which one he hates more, being a failed omega in his parents eyes, or failing as a queer for giving them exactly what they want. 

“His name’s Phil. We’re actually...I’m helping him co-write a memoir, which is weird. But fun. Good. He’s...good.”

Dan looks up at them. They’re both smiling and his dad is nodding encouragingly, like he’s expecting Dan to say more. Dan doesn’t. 

The silence settles between them and Dan thinks that maybe they’re so overwhelmed with joy that someone’s dumb enough to take on their debaucherous omega of a child that they won’t ask. 

But then Dan’s dad says, “Dan. We’re so happy for you. He’s...ah, Phil’s an Alpha? What’s his last name?”

Dan clenches his teeth then slowly, deliberately relaxes. 

“Does it matter?” he asks. 

“Dan,”’ his dad says. 

His mum takes over though, saying, “Of course not, sweetie. We’re just happy to hear you’ve met someone. We worry about you, all alone in the city.”

Alone. Sure. Nevermind the friends he just mentioned. 

Dan sits back and sighs, suddenly exhausted. “Yeah, mum. I know.”

  
  


“It could have gone worse,” Anthony says, his voice tiny and gone a little bit robotic through his shitty connection. 

Dan’s watching him apply moisturizer, across the city, getting ready for a date. 

“Could it have?” Dan asks. “Dad was nearly crying with joy. They get a normal omega after all. Queer until graduation, it turns out, they just had to give me a few years.”

He’s back home, back in bed, after spending hours with his parents, dodging all of their questions about Phil and his assignation. It was too soon, probably, to tell them. They want to know so much and all he can really give them is that Phil wants him and he wants them to do things the old ways. 

“I thought I was the one with the identity issues,” Anthony says. “Fuck, if one measly Alpha is enough to get you to be a failed queer, maybe I’m straight after all.”

Dan laughs. “Shut up. I just feel like they’ve  _ won _ , y’know? They told me it was a phase and surprise, surprise, here I am, dating an alpha.”

Anthony makes a considering noise and looks away from the camera, into his bathroom mirror. He’s put his phone at a weird angle, so Dan’s mostly getting an eyeful of his chin and a little nostril.

“I don’t...really listen to you, when you’re ranting,” he says, touching his own face. “But I’m pretty sure you’ve talked about how your sexuality is specifically about being attracted to  _ any  _ assignation. And Dan. That includes Alphas. Sorry to say.”

Dan grunts at Anthony, “Don’t use my own words against me. That’s just rude.”

Anthony shrugs and glances over at Dan, “Shouldn’t you be getting ready? Don’t you have a date with your Alphatoy tonight?”

Dan shakes his head. “It's all business tonight, I don’t have to look good.”

Anthony tuts, shaking his head. “This is how it happens. You catch an Alpha, you get complacent. Next thing you know, you’ll be giving me all your mousse and telling me he likes a more natural look. You’re going to start wearing  _ neutrals _ .”

Anthony shudders, exaggerated and Dan laughs while he flips him off.    
  
  


Dan isn’t lying, he  _ doesn’t _ get dressed up to see Phil. It’s an interview night, their first since Phil informed Dan that they were courting now. But, of course, he’s still going to Phil’s place and perhaps he chooses his clothing--tight skinny jeans and another boatnecked top--with that gorgeous bower in his thoughts. 

He gathers his thoughts on the tube and by the time he’s walking through Phil’s neighborhood, cool night air in his hair, he has a sense of what he needs from Phil and how he wants to ask questions tonight. 

What he isn’t prepared for, though, is seeing Phil after a few days away from each other. 

He looks the same when he opens the door, of course, his hair’s a touch shorter and he’s wearing joggers and a grey and white jumper, but he’s still Phil.

“Hi,” Dan says and the smile on his face comes unbidden. Phil’s matching grin is just as wide and damn if there aren’t butterflies in Dan’s stomach. 

“Oh jeez,” Phil says, stepping aside so Dan can come in. “This might be harder than I thought.”

“What’s that?” Dan asks. The flat’s clean and smells of coffee. If Dan concentrates, he gets the barest hints of woods and roads, the kind of lived-in scent that no amount of scent blockers can blot out.

“Being professional,” Phil says. “Hi. Are you always this fit?”

“Yes,” Dan says, “Professional hazard. Of being an omega, not the writing thing.”

“You do it too well,” Phil says, “Can I get you anything? Coffee, tea? A tour of my bedroom?”

Dan laughs, following him to the lounge, “Wasn’t the sex ban your idea?”

“That was a terrible idea,” Phil says, still smiling at him. “What idiot came up with that?”

“Definitely you,” Dan says, pulling his computer and other supplies out of his bag. “I’m just the poor omega waiting to be wooed within an inch of his life. But not during professional time. C’mon, I’ve got questions prepped.”

Phil putters around for a few minutes more, preparing himself a cup of coffee and offering Dan tea, or cookies, or a meal, no less than three more times. 

He finally settles in and gives Dan the signal that he can start recording. 

“So,” Dan says, “I can’t believe we haven’t talked about this but, how did you get into porn?”

Here’s the thing. Phil Lester, as far as Dan’s known in the weeks he’s known him, is smooth. Not in that suave, gross way that alphas can be. He’s collected. He’s not easily flustered, or if he is, it never shows on his face. One of the first real conversations had been about the best time Phil got fisted, and he’d told that story in the middle of a cafe, after a cursory glance to make sure no children were in hearing distance. 

Phil isn’t easily ruffled, and his always excited to talk about his career. 

So Dan’s more than a little surprised when Phil visibly processes the question, his ears go the sweetest, most delicate shade of pink and his cheeks follow suit.

“Phil?” Dan asks. 

“Um, wow,” Phil laughs, “I guess we haven’t talked about that. Ah. My first shoots were awful. Terrible, boring stuff. The shit Alpha directors churn out. They called it kink but I don’t really know what’s subversive about Alphas being violent with omegas. Um. But I don’t think of that as my  _ start _ .”

“What do you think of as your start then,” Dan asks, tapping out some notes for follow up questions and looking back at Phil, who’s still petal pink and, judging from the faint, thin scent that Dan can just barely smell, turned on.

“The studio doesn’t exist anymore, but it was called Envoi.”

Dan looks at Phil. 

“I’ve heard of Envoi,” Dan says slowly. “Early two thousands to...just a few years ago?”

Phil nods. “I was gone by the time they got big but. They were ahead of their times. It was simple too, of course people want to see dominated Alphas. And of course there are Alphas that want to be dominated.”

Dan’s only done shallow research on scent blockers, but he’s fairly certain that Phil’s on a standard one, the kind that let a little scent leak through, if you’re diligent and you know what you’re trying to smell. They’re the kind that aren’t really meant to dampen strong feelings of any sort. 

But honestly, Dan doesn’t need the scent. He can tell from the way Phil’s eyes have gone dark, and the way he keeps running his hands across his thighs. 

“I got in when it was really small, just a few camera men and Sam and Lindsey. They gave me solo work to start with. Sam, she uh, she filmed my first video herself. She talked me through it.”

Dan nodded. “What was that like?”

“Um,” Phil says and bites his bottom lip. “Good?”

Dan laughs and Phil laughs with him, but it's breathy and distracted. 

“Clearly,” Dan says, “If you’re, ah, still feeling positively about it. But what did she say? How did you feel?”

Phil sighed and looked out, past Dan. “It wasn’t--a lot of the dominated Alpha stuff now is really about flipping the script, but it's the same script. Someone being cruel and domineering and, ultimately, violent. And that’s fine, that’s what some people want. But Sam. I guess you’d call it omegazation now? She called me pretty.”

“Pretty?” Dan repeated.

“Yeah,” Phil says, licking his bottom lip. “She filmed the first few videos I did, and she’d always call me pretty, or pretty baby. D’you wanna come, pretty baby? Look at you, let us see that sweet hole, that kind of thing.”

Dan squeezed his thighs together, as if that’d stop the slow, warm spread of slick. He could imagine Phil, younger and softer, in a room under too-hot cameras, being sweet-talked into coming by an older woman. Dan could just see him being coaxed to slide down on his chair and spreading his legs for her, so she could see the tight furl of his asshole, and maybe ask his to press a finger or two in there, little a good little one.

“So you like that sort of thing?” Dan asks. It's not one of his follow up questions and might not be appropriate, but nothing seems exactly professionally in the charged atmosphere of their scents of their arousal mixing together. 

“I like a lot of things,” Phil says, finally looking Dan in the eye again. He’s still rubbing his thighs, dragging light grey fabric minutely over the obvious swell of his cock.

“But did you like that?” Dan asks. Before, he’d only imagined Phil on top of him, taking what he wanted from Dan’s body, but the thought of Phil, settled on his knees, waiting for instruction, feels like a door flung open. 

He could see himself doing any number of things to Phil, all the while asking,  _ do you like that _ .

“Yeah,” Phil says, and bites his bottom lip, worrying at it for a moment. “Yeah, I liked it. I like that.” 

Dan’s watched hours and hours of Phil being passed between different people. He’s seen Phil covered in other people’s slick and come, looking wrecked and far away. He’s seen Phil taking it like a champ, like a pro and none of it compares to watching him now, his bottom lip bit pink and plump, aroused and unable to do a thing about it because of his own, stupid rules. 

“Bathroom,” Dan breathes, stopping the recording and grabbing his phone.. He can feel Phil watching him as he goes down the hall and there’s no possibility they don’t both know what’s happening.

Dan closes the bathroom door and leans against it, undoing his jeans, and pushing them down, just enough for him to get a hand in his pants. He’s not just slick, he’s  _ wet _ , the kind of wet that means he’s going to have to take a car home because he won’t be able to bear the walk back to the train station. 

He tugs his phone out of his pocket and takes a few photos of himself, his spread thighs and his arm, wrist and the rest of his hand disappearing into his jeans. He takes a short, silent video, of the motion of his hand, there’s no question of what he’s doing, the rhythmic back and forth visible, even if his fingers aren’t. He’s careful to get the tile on the floor and even pans up a little to get the shower curtain in the corner.

Once he’s satisfied, he puts his phone on the shelf nearby and lets his head rest against the bathroom door so he can ride his fingers to a short, harsh orgasm. It comes within a few moments and he has to brace himself against the sink as his wet hole flutters around his fingers.

When he can stand again, he makes short work of washing his hand thoroughly and goes back out to finish the interview. 

Phil is still hard and his nostrils are flared. Dan knows Phil can smell his slick and probably also how satisfied he is, but when Dan looks at him with an eyebrow raised, he doesn’t say a word. He’s still hard and with the scent of Dan’s orgasm still clinging to him, Phil will probably stay that way.

Phil can play the traditional, respectful, restrained alpha all he wants. That doesn’t mean that Dan has to play by those same rules. Dan's not a good omega, he's neither chaste nor particularly patient. Phil should know just what he's signed up for.

“So,” Dan says, starting the recording again. “Sam and Lindsey, they were omegas?”

Phil nods, “They were. We were never sure if they were together, though.”

“And what was that like,” Dan asks, “working under the leadership of two omegas?”

The interview doesn’t take long this time. Two hours later, Dan’s riding in a car on the way back to his flat. They’d only kissed once, a soft press of lips that might have been chaste if Dan hadn’t snaked a hand between them to press against Phil’s now-soft cock. 

“Take care of that for me,” he’d said quietly, and held it, firmly, not quite squeezing until Phil nodded and tried to take a kiss that Dan turned away from, just to make Phil chase it. 

The city whips past now, it's late enough that there aren’t as many cars on the road and Dan lets a window down to let the still cold early Spring air blow out some of the obvious smell of his cold, mostly dry slick. 

He sends the video from Phil’s bathroom to Phil with a little bow emoji, and then looks out the window, letting the air skate across his cheeks. He’s got goosebumps.


	19. Inclination III

_You should come over_ , Dan texts Phil and looks back at his laptop. He’s not working, technically, just glancing over analytics from the site and checking his last post, his review of his time with Vlad, to see if there are any comments he needs to attend to. There are a couple, questions about portability and it's interaction with slick and other different lubes. He answers those while he waits for Phil to answer. 

_Work or...not work?_

Dan grins. _Not work. I was gonna cook. Pretend to be a good omega for you._

_role play. I like it. tmie?_

Dan sets up time for their date and looks back at his comments. There’s someone asking him about his best experience with Vlad. He chews on his bottom lip for a moment, peeling away dead skin. 

He doesn’t, as a rule, tell people about his partnered sex life in any detail. They know that he’s had his share of flings and random heat partners, but Anthony’s the only person who has shown up often enough to warrant a name. But he does make it a rule to be honest with his readers. And his best experience with Vlad was using it with Phil. 

**If we’re being honest** , he types, **and you know I love to be honest, using it with a lover and some creativity was incredibly...satisfying. I never did get why sloppy seconds were supposed to be a bad thing.**

For good measure, he includes some links to realistic reproductions of come and thoughts on how to best prepare it.   
The response comes a few minutes later, from a user different from the question asker, and the comment’s subject lines is a string of eyes emojis.

**Are we claiming lovers now? Whos the lucky o?**

Dan grits his teeth and closes his laptop. Phil’s due in a few hours, long enough for him to clean up a little and run by the shop to pick up ingredients for something. He’s got enough internal angst about this foray into heterosexuality, he doesn’t need it from his readers as well. 

 

The time Phil was supposed to get to Dan’s flat finally comes. Dan puts the final touches on the sides he’s prepared and glances at his phone, waiting for a text from Phil so he can let him up. 

He sits and waits for a while, long enough that he’s started frowning. Phil isn’t necessarily always on time, but he’s polite. He’ll text if he’s going to be more than ten minutes late and he always has a good reason for it.

Dan bites his bottom lip and sends a text, _you get held up?_

Ten minutes pass. Thirty. 

When it's an hour after their agreed upon time, Dan picks up his phone again and calls. 

The phone rings three times, then four. Dan’s just about to hang up when Phil answers. 

“Dan,” Phil breathes. “Hi, ‘m sorry.”

“Hi mate,” Dan says, looking at the now cold beef and mushroom galette and the wilty looking broccolini. “Are you ok?”

Phil makes a low, frustrated noise. “Hard to say.”

Now that Dan knows Phil isn’t dead, he’s a touch irritated, and Phil’s weird evasion is only making it worse. 

“Ok,” Dan says cooly, “You could have just texted if you didn’t want to come, Phil.”

Phil’s laugh is rueful, but it's also low, in that deep, dark timbre that reminds Dan of being kissed in the middle of his kitchen, the taste of cupcakes being chased out by the taste of Phil’s tongue. 

“I wanted to come, Dan,” he says. It's pretty immediately clear he’s not talking about dinner. Dan’s irritation flips over into suspicion, the kind that just needs a little more data to become certainty. There’s an idea he’s been playing with, with the way Phil’s been reacting to him lately, but only in the back of his mind.

Phil keeps going, “I want to come all the time, with you. Want to pull you into every dark corner we pass by, every time you come over here I just want to take you to my room and keep you there.”

“Phil,” Dan says, because this is the most explicit Phil’s ever been about his _wants_ and Dan has suspicions. “Are you drunk?”

That deep, gooseflesh-inducing laugh again. He feels so close now, his voice in Dan’s ear. 

“No,” Phil says.

Well. There goes that option. 

“Ok,” Dan breathes. “Alright. I’m going to bring you dinner, ok?”

There is a question there, that Dan isn’t asking, but they both hear it, it settles between them like smoke, thick and whirling.

“If...if you want to.” It’s the first time Phil’s sounded unsure. “I know that’s not...this isn’t really going according to plan.”

Dan’s already looking around his kitchen, thinking about the best way to transport dinner. Phil’s going to need it probably. Dan always forgets to eat in the middle of his own heats.

Dan thinks, on the way to Phil’s flat. 

It’s standard practice to go on some kind of heat suppressant in porn. It’s honestly not that unusual for people with jobs outside of sex work to go on them, to regulate a roaming heat, or to calm one that’s more powerful than they can handle. 

Suppressing an alpha heat, a rut, is a little more rare in the general public, but it's not unusual for someone in Phil’s line of work. 

Dan’s never been on suppressants, but he has friends who do, and he runs a sex blog. He knows enough to know that the suppressants themselves don’t smell like anything, but they make it so the user doesn’t smell like anything either. He knows it takes a while for them to wear off, and he knows the first few heats are weak, and barely register for anyone, even the person in heat. And then there’s the first big one. There’s a whole, niche, genre of porn for people in the midsts of, or doing a good job acting out, the first big heat post-suppressants. 

It builds slow, apparently. You don’t notice it til it's there. 

Phil’s scent has been building around Dan. They spend so much time together, Dan doesn’t always notice anymore. But it's there all the time now, nothing like when they’d first met and Dan was struck by the way Phil smelled like not much at all when they first met.

The drive is blessedly short, traffic calm in the late evening, and Dan thanks the driver as he gets himself and his bags out of the car. 

The doorman recognizes him now. He still has to sign, but it's quick work and he just goes up, instead of waiting for Phil to come retrieve him. 

Dan stands in the lift and parses through his feelings. His heats are nothing to him, a good time to test out a lot of good toys at once, or let loose with a friend. He feels affectionate toward them, a little wicked pride in how good he can make them feel, but he’s never been the type to write a romance novel about a heat fuck. 

He doesn’t know if that’s the case for Phil. He doesn’t even know how long it's been since Phil’s had a heat. 

When Dan steps out onto Phil’s floor, he doesn’t smell anything amiss. It’s dramatic, something that only happens in the movies, to be knocked on your knees by your partner’s heat from feet away. 

Dan’s brain skips over the word partner. He ignores it and heads for Phil’s door, knocking a couple times. 

The door swings open, and reveals a totally normal looking Phil. He’s wearing a hideously bright t-shirt and shiny silver basketball shorts. His hair is a mess, like he’s been napping and he’s blushing a little.

Dan would think that maybe he’s gotten this wrong, maybe Phil just has a cold that makes him feel particularly truthful. Except that now there’s a wave of scent. Dan thinks of the particular scents of drives through the country, road and pine trees, a sharp snap of cold wrapped up in the soily scent of living things. 

Dan’s gotten hints of this before, when Phil’s so turned on his pupils get big and his breathing gets shallow. It’s never been this _strong_ before.   
Dan lifts the disposable grocery bags in both his hands. “I brought dinner to you, you twat.”

Phil laughs, “Still pretending to be a good omega?”

Dan takes a breath, inhaling that scent and says, “I think you’d take me at my worst, right now.”

Dan does well, when he turns it on. He knows just how to tilt his hips and how to make his height something appealing and how to make himself into a challenge everyone wants to take on. He’s gotten plenty of people in bed just on the strength of a raised eyebrow and a long, slow once over.

What he doesn’t get often, is someone full on laughing at him, like Phil does now. 

But Phil laughs as he reaches out to grab one of the bags and turns to let Dan follow him into the flat. 

“That works on people, doesn’t it?” Phil says, heading for the kitchen to set the food down on a countertop. “The whole sexy, minxy omega thing?”

Dan frowns, “It’s literally worked on you before. It should work really well now.”

Phil shrugged. “It's coming in waves. I just knotted my hand before you got here.”

Dan doesn’t immediately start producing slick at the casual way Phil talks about his heat, but it's a near thing.

“C’mon,” he says roughly, instead, “Let’s get some food in you before your next wave. Do you drink during heats?”

“Some,” Phil says, while peeking into one of the tins Dan’s brought. “Thank you.”

Dan opens his mouth to say something snarky, but closes it and looks at Phil. 

“When it comes back,” Dan says, waving a hand at Phil, “Do you want me to be here?”

It’s silly, Dan’s lost count of how many people he’s asked if they want him as their heat partner. But he can’t quite get it out, with Phil, who has made it clear he intends to date Dan.

“Ah,” Phil says, “Yes. If you want to. I’d like that.”

“Ok,” Dan says, turning to tend to the gallette so Phil doesn’t see his dumb smile. “Good.”

The break in Phil’s heat lasts through dinner and then some. They manage to eat, clean up and settle in on the couch with a second round of drinks, a light white wine that Phil had lying around, before Phil starts going hazy around the eyes. 

Dan’s laughing at something Phil’s just said when he notices. The air doesn’t change, they’ve both breathed in Phil’s scent so much now that the brain doesn’t register it anymore. 

Phil changes though, his body leaning into the corner of the couch so he can more fully turn toward Dan, his gaze sharpens and falls to Dan’s mouth. His fingers loosen on his on glass a little, and he relaxes into a recline, one leg coming up to rest on the couch, the other on the floor, spread out. He takes the last sip of his wine and places his glass on the floor, against the sofa and watches Dan.

Dan does his level best, in his everyday life, to avoid biological essentialism. He doesn’t, technically, believe that anyone does anything because they’re an alpha, or omega, any more than he believes anyone does things because they’re tall, or a blonde. 

But looking at Phil, all he can think is that this is such an Alpha move, to spread yourself out for an omega to come get. It’s a passive act, nothing like grabbing someone and pressing them against the nearest hard surface until you come, but it's an Alpha gesture, still. 

Maybe that makes a little more irritating that Dan goes just as easily, putting his own glass of wine down and leaning on the couch, crawling up Phil’s body until he can reach his mouth. 

Phil’s mouth is cool, and just a touch alcoholic. He opens for Dan immediately, letting Dan chase the last taste of wine. One arm rests on the arm of the cough, the other rests lightly on Dan’s waist, steadying him. 

Dan could stay like that for a while, just kissing, with Phil holding him up, but he has other plans and Phil hasn’t said just how long a wave of rut will last for him. 

Dan pulls back away so he can reach for the waistband of Phil’s shorts, tugging them off. Phil’s not wearing pants, but Dan’s known that since he walked in and noticed the shape of Phil’s cock along the folds of the fabric. 

He’s still soft. Perfect.   
Dan gets on his knees on the floor and turns Phil so Dan can settle between his knees. 

Phil doesn’t say anything, just moves the way Dan wants him to move. When Dan puts Phil’s soft cock between his relaxed lips, Phil makes a soft, low noise. 

Dan loves this. He loves the way he can take Phil’s entire cock in his mouth like this, he loves the softness of it, and the way he can feel it getting incrementally harder. He relaxes further and lets it rest against the back of his soft palate, just so Phil can feel the downward curve of his throat, before pulling off. The slurping noise is enough for Dan to start feeling slickness gather at his hole. The soft, pleased noises Phil keeps making just brings it own faster. 

Dan keeps sucking until Phil’s hard, his cock curving back toward his belly when Dan pulls away to go lower, pressing his tongue against the soft, hidden skin of Phil’s perineum. 

When he pulls away, Phil’s hair is in an even worse state than normal and his hand is resting on Dan’s shoulder lightly, just holding on. 

“Keep going?” Dan asks. 

Phil nods.

Dan sucks Phil’s cock until his jaw gets tired and then switches to jerking him off, paying special attention to squeeze at the base of Phil’s cock where there’s just the slight swell of the beginning of a knot. He loses his shirt at some point and in between Phil comes and doesn’t get a bit softer. 

Dan had forgotten about that particular features of an Alpha in heat. It’s...appealing. It's dirty as all fuck, Phil’s shorts are ruined, his cock is shiny with slick and the swell of knot at the base is even more obvious. 

Dan pulls his phone out of his back pocket and glances up at Phil, who nods, before taking a few pictures of Phil’s cock against his stomach, the flushed head tapping sticky against his skin. 

Satisfied, he leans back in to lick long strokes up the length of it, shivering when Phil rests a hand at the base of Dan’s neck, wraps the other around his own cock. There’s no pressure, but it's still enough to make Dan shove a hand into his pants and grab his own cock. 

They stay there a few minutes more, Phil feeding Dan his cock, fucking his mouth in a steady, surprisingly calm pace. When Dan pulls away, Phil lets him go, and watches him, hand still wrapped around his cock. 

Dan climbs to his knees and pulls his jeans and underwear off. He’s about to lift a knee to the couch to finally get Phil’s cock in him when Phil grabs him and tilts him onto the couch. Dan’s looks down his body, curious about where Phil’s going with this, but when Phil settles with his head between Dan’s legs and tugs those til Dan settles his knees over Phil’s shoulders, Dan lets his head drop back. 

Phil’s tongue is a point of pressure, circling his hole once, twice, before it flattens out and licks broad across the rim, lapping at the slick Dan’s dripping. It’s sloppy and a touch too rough until Dan squirms away and Phil immediately gentles his movements. It transforms from Phil chasing the taste of Dan to him enjoying it, pressing long and slow against Dan’s hole until he’s even wetter than before, relaxed and grinding against Phil’s mouth. The first time they took a step in this direction, when Phil talked Dan into a heat-assisted fervor, he’d bemoaned that there was no one to eat Dan up. Dan is personally ecstatic that Phil’s seen fit to fill the position.

Phil eats him until Dan comes, whimpering, and then he climbs up the length of Dan’s body to kiss him, letting Dan taste himself on Phil’s tongue.

Dan maybe had other plans for the first time he got Phil’s cock in him, plans that involved the perfect bower that he still hasn’t seen more than a handful of times, but it just makes all the sense in the world to wrap his legs around Phil’s waist and reach down to grab his cock. Phil clearly agrees, because he moves around to better position himself and stares down at Dan as he pushes in. 

The breathy, cut off noises Dan makes are purely instinctual. Phil’s not huge, if anything he’s on the slightly larger side of average, in line with his general build, and Dan’s certainly had larger things in his cloaca. But he’s warm and halfway to knotting already and as soon as his hips are pressed up against Dan’s ass, he sort of crumples down, tucking his head into the crevice between Dan’s head and neck, and starts rutting. 

Dan’s never been part of a rut. He’s watched rut porn, with Alphas and Omegas, and some kinky stuff with just Alphas. It's always been presented to him as something feral and uncontrolled, totally different from an Omega heat. When Dan’s in heat, he becomes tempting, seductive. His brain is aligned with his body’s need to be mated. 

Dan knows that perhaps one day, Phil's ruts will match his heats and they’ll be synchronized in their goals and Phil’s relative wordlessness will match perfectly with Dan’s cloying mind games. 

Eventually is not now, though. Phil’s rut has been delayed for months, maybe even years, and the only thing he’s concerned with is having a tight, hot place to knot. 

And Dan will never, ever in a million years tell anyone, but he’s delighted to be that place. 

Phil’s pace is brutal, hips snapping in and in. There’s no finesse, and Dan thinks that if he wasn’t relaxed from coming once already, it might hurt. Instead, it feels like sparks going off in him, over and over again, every time Phil fucks into him. He turns into one of those omegas he’s mocked in porn for so many years, incapable of doing anything but holding on tighter and whining, _yes, yes, yes_ over again. God, if his younger self could see him now.

Hours, or maybe a few minutes, later, Dan feels it. The knot at the base of Phil’s cock had been growing steadily since Dan first got on his knees for Phil and now it's stretching Dan’s rim with every thrust, slowing Phil down. 

“Stop,” Dan gasps. 

Phil stops immediately, looking up at Dan. He looks wild, his pupils dilated, his hair mussed, his cheeks gone bright red. 

“Get out,” Dan says shoving at him a little, “I want to ride you.”

Phil might not have words, but he clearly understands them, pulling away from Dan to sit back on the couch. 

Dan looks down. Phil’s cock is obscene, the shaft as bright as his checks, and the head and knot so red they’re nearly purple. They look painful, they’re so blood fat and shiny with Dan’s slick. When Dan moves to sit up, he notices the wet spot beneath him and makes a small face. They should have put a towel down or something. Too late now, he supposes.

Dan crawls over and throws one long leg over Phil’s lap, getting himself in place. He looks at Phil expectantly until Phil reaches down to line his cock up, teeth pressed into his bottom lip. 

Dan spreads himself and lowers down onto Phil’s cock, groaning low in the back of his throat. The momentary break was enough of a break that he can feel the stretch again. He gasps when the knot breaches him. The sparks are back, and bigger and Dan, who’d had every intention of riding Phil at a very sexy and impressively athletic pace, finds himself grinding against that knot instead, only lifting up enough to feel it breach and spread him again and again.   
Externally, it's probably nothing to look at, a small roll of the hips, Phil’s hands wrapped around his waist, pulling him even closer. 

Internally though, Dan can feel the knot making it's final swells and he squeezes around it, contracting his walls until he comes again, grinding turning into shuddery, rhythmless jerks.

Phil still hasn’t come when they finally lock together, even though he’s groaning and guiding Dan’s hips and shoving himself up into Dan’s hole as much as he can. 

“C’mon,” Dan mutters, post orgasm, Phil’s cock feels heavy and big in him and he can feel the beginning twinges of soreness. Illogically, he can feel the muted echoes of a potential third orgasm. 

“Phil,” he says again, “Phil, c’mon, come in me, fill me up.”

Phil presses his head against Dan’s neck, forehead pressed right where a mating bite would go. 

Dan, almost unbidden, starts moving again. Phil’s hands tighten on hips.

“What d’you need?” Dan asks. He doesn’t have any expertise here. The way he’s always heard it, an Alpha knots and then he comes. “Tell me. I’ll do it, Phil, what do you need?”

Phil sighs and leans forward. Dan yelps a little as they spill to the floor, his back hitting the floor with a painless but loud thunk. 

Phil glances at him once, watching for disagreement, before he tucks his head back into Dan’s neck and starts fucking again. 

“You’re going to kill me,” Dan says, “I”m going to die on your cock. Hope you have a necrophilia kink.”

Dan can feel Phil laugh even as he’s thrusting. 

“You’re ruining me,” Dan says, finally letting his legs drop. It's a new angle, the sparks might be coming back. “You and your knot, I’m going to have to get new toys, Phil’s don’t make me get new toys just to feel this again. Phil, don’t, ah, ah!”

Dan’s third or fourth orgasm, is a sneaking thing, catching him in the middle of a thought. It’s quick and weak, a shudder and squeeze of a thing. But Phil must be satisfied, because his thrusting gets slower and longer and then Dan feels wet.   
Dan knows wetness. He knows the feeling of his own slick, when it's first easing the glide of something into his hole. He knows what it feels like to be dripping, to feel like to be made a mess of, to slosh and spatter with every step. And he’s had people come in him before, he knows the feeling of warmth spreading inside of him. 

All of that was a sort of preparation for this feeling. Phil’s come washes across his insides, certainly, and as soon as Phil’s knot shrinks enough, he pulls out and he’s still coming. It’s not a forceful issue anymore, but it's still coming, a steady spill that he drips over Dan’s hole and then, with some rearranging, onto Dan’s cock. 

“Oh,” Dan says, looking down between them at Phil’s shrinking knot. “That’s.”

Phil reaches between them and grabs Dan’s cock, which is somehow, impossibly, hard. 

“Phil,” Dan says. The _I can’t_ dies in his throat though, as Phil jerks him off, using his own come as lube on Dan’s cock. 

It takes a few strokes before Dan comes, the kind of thing that’d be humiliating if he hadn’t come a handful of times before. 

“You fucker,” Dan says as he fucks Phil’s sloppy wet hand, groaning when that earns him an extra squeeze. “You absolute fucker, you put me in heat.”

Phil, who’s apparently calmed down, looks genuinely surprised when he says, “Oops?”

 

Hours later, after food and washing and some sleep, Dan finds himself, finally, in the bower of his literal dreams, on his knees, begging Phil to go faster. 

“I need it,” he whines, arching his back, he feels like he’s going to claw his way out of his own skin. “Phil, Phil, give it, your knot, I want--”

The bed is firm, his knees barely move when Phil presses down on his neck until he collapses, shoulders pressed into the bed, ass up. 

Phil maintains his pace, and only slows down when Dan tries to pick up the pace. Dan curses at him and doesn’t change his tune until Phil finally, _finally_ gives him what he wants, speeding up until Dan’s nearly howling, his moans loud and low with every breath he takes. 

Phil isn’t vocal when he’s fucking, he loses words, but Dan can still feel smugness radiating from him. Fucker. 

Hours after that, Dan’s mostly looking at his phone. Phil’s got a few fingers in him, mostly idle, watching Dan’s phone activities over his shoulder. He’ll twist them in a way that makes Dan gasp when he gets bored, but they’re mostly asleep. 

When Dan opens the camera app again, surprising them both with their own faces, Phil laughs and makes another agreeing hum.

From the shoulders up, it looks like they’re just having a cuddle, mostly asleep after a long day. 

Dan snaps the picture and then moves on, tweeting and responding to emails until he falls asleep. 

He wakes up once, in the middle of the night, eyes blurry, to text Anthony. _Alphas don’t have perfect cocks, his curves to the elft_

It’s not even that interesting, but Anthony will get a kick out of the confirmation.


	20. Consummative

When Dan wakes up again, the heat under his skin has cooled to a low simmer and he can smell food. He stretches out, nearly purring with how big the bed is, he’s in the middle and there’s enough space for all of his limbs plus some. It still smells of Phil, but it also smells like him, and like the sex they’ve had. It makes him want to curl up in the scents and the sheets and never leave. 

Dan’s eyes snap open as he processes the thoughtless instincts rolling through him, the inclination to stay in this bed, in this bower and stay there. Jesus. 

He sits up and rolls out of the bed, heading toward Phil’s shower. The lingering pull of his heat balks at the thought of washing off all that delightful, thick mating scent, but the rest of him is reeling with how easy it would be to just crawl back into the bed, like he’s been taught all these years. 

Phil’s bathroom is smaller, probably to offset the glorious bedroom, but it's functional. Dan hops into a stream that’s a touch too hot and looks around for something to clean himself with.

He’s mildly surprised by Phil’s selection of shower gels and shampoos. For as herbaceous as Phil’s actual scent is, he tends toward bottles of pink and purple that promise to make him smell like flowers or fruit or straight up sugar. Dan plucks one of the least sugary ones, an orange and lily one that makes him imagine a twelve year old girl and starts washing. 

He loses track of time and space a little under the warm spray. It’s normal, heats take a lot out of him, the day after always feels a little bit like the bounceback from a long illness. He lets himself drift a little in the warmth of the shower and the sugary scent of the bodywash until the click of the door opening brings him back. 

Dan tenses. It's hardly against any rule for him to be washing off Phil’s scent but it's not exactly a _done_ thing. He’s even had a few omegas who have gotten put out with his decision to shower before they were long gone. Scent is important, to all of them, and lots of people like to feel like they _own_ their partners, even if it's only for a few hours. 

“Hey,” Phil says, sounding exactly like he had yesterday. Dan’s not sure what he was expecting. “Did you find everything ok?”

“...In the shower?” Dan asks, looking at the closed shower curtain. 

“Yeah,” Phil says, his voice closer now, just on the other side of the opaque piece of plastic. “Can I poke my head in?”

Dan hums an affirmative and Phil does just that. 

His hair is a slightly neater nest than yesterday and he’s thrown on an atrociously bright t-shirt. Dan’s fingers tingle.

“Hi,” Phil says and grins at him, a little dopey. Dan’s heartbeat ticks up for second and he feels just as warm inside as he does out. 

“You know no one can really smell these,” Dan says, nodding to the shower gels. “Hi.”

Phil shrugs, “Not anymore they can’t.”

Ah, right. Suppressants. 

“People are weird about it, when you don’t smell like anything at all,” Phil offers. “And the people I worked with got a kick out of it, trying to guess what I’d smell like that day.”

Right. Because until very recently, Phil’s job required him to be very up close and personal with a lot of people. Because Phil’s famous, among queer people, for his androgyny and unknowability. Things that probably wouldn’t change because he and Dan spent a heat together. 

Dan nods and tilts his head back to rinse his hair. When he tilts his head forward, Phil is still there, watching. He doesn’t stop watching just because Dan’s looking. 

“There’s food,” Phil said. “Nothing like what you cook, but. Eggs. Toast, mostly unburnt.”

“Coffee?” Dan asks. They were up so, so late last night. 

“Coffee,” Phil confirms, “No promises about the quality, though.”

Dan nods. “Let me finish here, and we can eat?”

Phil smiles. “Sounds like a plan. Also, there’s some inert stuff, behind you. If you don’t want to smell like--”

“A flower shop and a bakery’s love child?” Dan teases. 

Phil rolls his eyes, still smiling, and then he disappears. 

 

Phil, it turns out, is a perfectly serviceable cook. He’s even thrown a little thyme in the scrambled eggs, and blushes and ducks his head when Dan asks after it.

They don’t talk about anything in particular as they eat, a little about the book, more about what Phil’s getting up to when he’s not working with Dan. He’s essentially on a break right now, having saved enough of a cushion that he can take the most of a year off to figure out just what he wants to do next. Dan tries, and likely fails, to hide how jealous that makes him. He loves his blog, more than anything, but it won’t be long before he really has to figure out what’s next, especially if the book does particularly well. 

They move back to the couch eventually and Dan has an idle thought of recreating some part of last night that gets swept away when Phil asks him something about the blog. 

He’s telling Phil about the company that once @’d him directly for saying that their products were shit when he hears his phone ring from back in the bedroom. 

Phil just nods and smiles when Dan excuses himself, turning to look at his own phone.

Dan manages to pick it up on the fourth ring and wanders back to the front room as he says, “Hello?”

“Tell me everything,” Anthony says, and Dan can hear the shitty grin.

“No!” Day says, laughing into the phone. “I’m not telling you anything.”

“Was it amazing?” Anthony asks. “Was it huge, it must have been huge.”

“I’m not having this conversation,” Dan says, rolling his eyes and smiling. He glances over to see Phil, eyebrow raised and a little smile quirking the corner of his mouth. “A lady doesn’t kiss and tell.”

“Your entire career is about kissing and telling,” Anthony points out. “Just with like, toys instead of real live boys, I deserve this Dan!”

“Bye, Anthony,” Dan says and hangs up while Anthony is protesting. He’ll call him back later once he gets back home. 

Right now, he feels lazy and full and the banked heat under his skin isn’t entirely gone out. 

“Anthony?” Phil asks. 

“One of my friends,” Dan says, pulling his feet onto the couch. “I’ve told you about him before, the human sexuality crisis.”

“Ah,” Phil says, nodding. “You told him about...us, then?”

Dan hums and says, “Yeah. He’s been teasing me about you since, well, basically since we met, so I figured he deserved to know he was right about something for once.”

Phil grabs one of Dan’s feet, and watches his face as he presses a bony thumb into the arch of Dan’s foot. Dan hadn’t even known he’d wanted that until the sensation spreads warm through him. He groans a little and repositions so Phil can get a better grip on his foot. 

“Are we doing that? Telling people about us?” Phil sounds a little nervous, so different from the confidence to the point of distraction he’d showed yesterday. 

Dan shrugs, “Is there an us to tell people about?”

Phil’s silent for a long time, kneading Dan’s foot. Dan genuinely tries to hold on to the little niggling sense of irritation that they have to have this conversation, and the dislike for how Phil suddenly seems unsure when Dan’s been offering himself up on a platter for weeks now. But Phil’s hands are big and warm on him and he’s still technically in heat and things are starting to head toward a fever pitch. 

“I want you,” Dan says plainly. “I know we have the book and I know there are other things to think about. But you’re the one who decided we’d go courting. And we can still do that if you want. But I want you. I want to date you, not just fuck because one of us loses control.”

It’s probably the most direct he’s been since they first started flirting, which is probably problematic, but Dan just can’t be arsed to play games with Phil right now. 

Phil doesn’t respond immediately. Instead, he sweeps a hand along Dan’s calf, up to mid-thigh, stopping at the hem of Dan’s borrowed shorts, and then back down. Dan shivers when he does it again. 

“I want to date you,” Phil says finally. “I’ve just never done this before. And I don’t want to mess you around.” 

“What’s this?” Dan asks, using all of his brainpower to focus on the words Phil’s saying and not the way his skin prickles in the wake of Phil’s hand. “Dating a messy queer omega?”

“You’re not messy,” Phil says, almost automatically. “And no, dating at all. I’ve been on dates and things but not--I think this is going to be a long term thing, Dan.”

He looks at Dan, who nods. 

“I want…” Phil says, “I want to tell people. I know there’s the book but. It’s fine. We don’t have to wait, we can.”

“Great,” Dan says then takes his leg away. Phil watches him as he crawls up on his knees and over to straddle Phil. “I’ll get on that, right away.”

Phil pulls him down into a kiss.

 

 

“C’mon,” Dan says, glancing away from unlocking his front door. Phil’s dithering near the elevator for some reason. This is meant to be a quick trip for Dan to grab some clothes and some things he’d been saving to test out during his heat. He’d only invited Phil along because he didn’t particularly feel like leaving Phil alone, or really leaving Phil at all. 

It’s not really polite, exactly, to wander around in public while you’re in heat. Dan’s done it a few times, and doesn’t love the leers he’ll get, but he’s never felt particularly abashed about it. 

But there’s something different about wandering around in heat, with your...heat partner, who also has the last clinging notes of heat on his skin. It feels illicit, and exciting, and more than a little transgressive. 

Dan intentionally doesn’t think about all the different ways it could be read. Phil isn’t the sort of Alpha that would parade a heat addled Omega for his own kicks and Dan isn’t, has never been heat addled in that way. 

He opens his door and Phil finally hustles up to follow him in.

“I like your flat,” Phil says, “I don’t know if I ever said. It’s quite nice.”

“I like your face,” Dan says, heading to his office to pick up the toys he needs. “Thanks. Sorry there’s no amazing bower.”

“Shut up,” Phil says, laughing, “It’s just a bed. I like to be comfortable.”

“It’s a bower,” Dan says, coming back to the longue with an arm full of toys. Phil’s sat on his couch and Dan’s struck by how much he fits. Phil’s been here plenty of times, has sat on this very couch enough times to have a favored side, but he’s always been visiting. Now, Dan’s got half a mind to start imagining him there as a long-time fixture. 

“Come help me pick out clothes,” Dan says, dropping the toys in a pile next to Phil. Phil looks at them curiously but gets up to follow Dan to his bedroom. 

“Your color options are black and black,” Dan says, leading him down the hallway. 

“Wow, Dan,” Phil says, heavy sarcasm coloring his tone, “Are you sure you trust me with that much power.”

“Sure,” Dan says, opening the door to his bedroom, “But I also have complete veto power.”

Phil’s never been in his bedroom. 

It seems almost impossible to believe, they’ve spent so much time together and Dan’s spent so much time in Phil’s bedroom recently. And more than that, Dan’s spent so much time thinking about Phil in this room. 

It’s a little pavlovian. Dan walks into this room, with Phil on his mind, and he gets turned on. 

Except he’s in heat, so a little arousal turns into a steady wave like nothing. 

Phil looks at him curiously, clearly able to smell Dan’s change in mood, but Dan doesn’t say anything, just gestures at the small walk in closet just off from his bedroom. 

He sits on the bed and listens to Phil rifle though things, mumbling to himself about Dan’s clothing. 

“You have a lot of black clothes,” Phil says at one point, a touch of awe in his voice. Dan laughs at him. 

“Ooh,” Phil says after another long stretch of companionable quiet. 

He comes out of Dan’s closet with one of Dan’s shirts. It’s one of the ones with stripes of mesh. 

“Put it on,” Phil says, holding it out. “I wanna see this on you, I like it.”

“Bossy,” Dan grumbles, Phil’s demand rankling a little. He stands to tug his shirt off, though. 

When he’s pulled the shirt away from his head, Phil’s staring at him. 

“Shirt?” Dan asks, holding a hand out.

Phil gives it to him and Dan tugs it on. As soon as it's on properly, he remembers which one it is, and why it's one of his favorites. 

The collar is a boatneck that shows off his long neck and the tops of his shoulders but it's tight and the mesh panels over his nipples rub in a way that never fails to give him a little zing. 

The shirt, combined with Phil’s gaze, is enough. Dan can feel his cock chub up in his trackies and the warmth of his hole softening. 

“Satisfied?” Dan asks, spreading his arms wide and just barely holding a gasp when the mesh rubs against his sensitive skin. 

Phil doesn’t have to say much. He makes his way behind Dan and angles them both toward the bed so he can bend Dan over it. 

“You know I can smell you,” Phil says, “As soon as we got in here.”

“Shut up and fuck me,” Dan says

Phil listens, tugging Dan’s bottoms off. It’s not fast, Dan isn’t sloppy wet halfway into his second day of heat. It just means that when Phil pushes his cock into Dan, there’s a real stretch. It only takes a thrust or two before Dan feels like his dripping, pushing back against Phil’s hips. He whines and tries to spread his legs, but he’s trapped by his bottoms, Phil had only pushed them down to his thighs. 

“So good,” Phil says, gasps really. “You’re so good Dan, you’re so lovely.”

One day Dan’s going to have to talk to Phil about just what he means by shut up, now though he just grabs a pillow to bury his face in so the whole neighborhood doesn’t have to listen to him mewl and groan while Phil fucks him into the mattress. 

When they’re done, Phil flops on top of Dan and stays there until Dan grumbles and squirms out from under him so that they’re looking at each other. Dan awkwardly kicks his pants and sweats off and flops back onto the bed, shoving a foot beneath Phil’s legs.

“I want to know more about you,” Phil says, looking at Dan. 

Dan huffs a laugh. “Like what?”

Phil shrugs the shoulder he’s not laying on. “We always talk about me. About work. We don’t talk about you enough.”

Dan sighs and rolls over so he can stare at the ceiling. 

“Ok,” he says, “You’ve gotta ask questions. I can’t just...I don’t know what to tell you.”

“Do you have any siblings?” Phil asks. 

Dan laughs, “I so don’t want to talk about my brother while your jizz is literally leaking out of me.”

Phil shifts and his head pops into Dan’s field of vision. “So you have a brother then?”

Dan laughs. “Yes. Just one. Younger.”

“And your friends, growing up?” 

There’s a small, frail looking crack in Dan’s ceiling. He traces it with his eyes. He looks back over at Phil. 

“I didn’t have any real mates,” Dan says “Not til uni. Everyone wanted to--well, everyone didn’t want to be a good omega, but they pretended to. I didn’t pretend and so they didn’t want to be lumped in with me.”

“You’re a good person,” Phil says. 

It’s different, he’s had plenty of would-be lovers tell him that he’s a good Omega. They’re well meaning, but it still gets under his skin. It feels like something different, to be called a good person. 

“You are, too,” Dan says. 

“And what about uni?” Phil asks. “That’s where you made real mates?”

Dan nods, “I had the best mates.”

He tells Phil about his uni days, the DO and, haltingly, about his group of friends. When Phil keeps watching him, he finds himself talking about the way they drifted apart, and how he checks up on some of them occasionally, but it's nothing like before. He mentions Oliver, and Youtube, just for a moment and watches Phil’s face twist into something sad and unsurprised. He doesn’t like that look, so he moves on.

He talks about finding Cat and Anthony. He talks about the years of building the blog, all the words written before he could make a career out of it, some of his best and worst experiences with his work. 

He talks until his throat is tired and he feels like he’s on the verge of going hoarse and when he stops, Phil just strips them and pulls Dan closer and rubs big circles into his side until he falls asleep. 

 

When Dan wakes up, the room is dark and he’s alone. His mouth tastes like shit and he’s mildly disoriented, wrapped up in sheets he doesn’t remember getting under. 

Phil’s bumping around the apartment, the kitchen, maybe. Dan needs to pee.

He rolls out of bed, stumbling a little, and stretches, heading for the bathroom. Phil’s humming, loud enough for him to hear over the sound of pots on the stove and him using the bathroom and washing his hands. 

Dan grabs clothes from the floor, his own pants and Phil’s shirt and heads for the front of his flat. 

He makes his way to the couch, grabbing his phone and sits down, turning so Phil is lit by the light of the kitchen, pale and shining from the darkness of the rest of the apartment. 

Dan takes the photo without thinking, because he’s feeling groggy and affectionate and he wants to keep it. And unlike the other one, he posts it to his stories. Because he can. Because it's his instagram and he wants his friends and family to know that there’s someone in his kitchen, cooking him something to eat for the second time today, when he’s drained from being in heat. It’s too soon, maybe. He should have asked Phil, maybe. 

He kicks the toys he’d left there earlier to the floor, too lazy to move them properly and sinks deeper into the couch, turning so he can keep watching Phil, who’s certainly figured out he’s there by now. 

Phil turns and smiles at him. Dan yawns and waves back. 

They don’t say anything to each other. Dan watches Phil cook and Phil looks over his shoulder at Dan now and again.

It feels easy. It feels almost too easy-- there’s so much between them that hasn’t been uncovered, so much left for them to talk about. But it still feels like something Dan could do for a long time.

“Hey,” he calls, so Phil turns away from the pot of whatever he’s found in Dan’s fridge.

“Yeah?” Phil asks, taking a step to the side so he can see Dan better.

“You were right, earlier,” Dan says, “About it being a long term thing. I think so, too.”

Phil smiles at him, and whatever worries Dan still has-- about Phil being an omega, about the book, about what people will say about all of this, about if he’s letting someone, maybe even his younger self, down--they feel like they matter a little less. 

“Good,” Phil says, his smile still bright, his voice a little softer, “That’s really good, Dan.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story was really hard for me. I made a lot of plans that didn't come to fruition and I learned a lot about myself and about the type of writing I do and don't want to do. I got a ton of feedback from all of you, and encouragement and questions and thoughts and suggestions and I'm incredibly grateful for all of that--for the people who dropped a word once, and the people who pop up with every update and everyone in between. 
> 
> The ending of this story was a surprise for me, but I knew it was over because it was the first time I didn't feel a really restless, annoying disappointment with it. It might not be the most satisfying for you, but I don't want to push it beyond, into something that's writing just to write, not writing because its a story that I want to tell. Maybe there'll be more in the future, maybe there won't, you know as well as I do.
> 
> So thanks, and I hope you stick around for whatever I'm up to next, you can always find me at queerofcups.tumblr.com

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from The Dresden Dolls' Coin Operated Boy. This fic is unbeta'd. Come say hi at queerofcups.tumblr.com.


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